Bleeding Silver
by whitedove4
Summary: A lone woman, dangerous and unlike anything they've encountered before. A distress call from a planet shrouded with mystery. A powerful Empire with the technology that could destroy everything they know. Jim thought it would be a simple mission: find the fugitive and take them for questioning. Nothing's ever simple.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

Captain James T. Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, flagship of Starfleet, grinned as they docked. Fire flashed along his every nerve, his blue eyes flashing. He looked down at the bustling space station, smaller ships darting around as if they were flies – a multitude of metal and blinking lights. And beyond it was the Renyr Field, a gaseous cloud of flashing lights and space storms. It was beautiful to watch, the brilliant colours coalescing, greens and blues that put him in mind of the rolling hills and blue skies of the country. But even through those lovely clouds he could see the debris and asteroids that forever drifted through the clouds.

"I don't know what you're so damned happy about," Bones growled by his side, glaring at the station.

_Of course he didn't,_ Jim could have rolled his eyes. They'd been drifting about aimlessly for months; the start of their five year mission was not off to a good start, exploring new worlds and such. But he knew the doctor would head to the nearest bar and loose himself in a good bottle of Romulan ale.

And bright and early they would enter the impenetrable space known as the Renyr Field, an area that all starships avoided. All starships bar the trading vessels that were occasionally sent out from Hetyr II. For like the Briar Patch warp drive within the clouds could not be used, the strange clouds messed with the communications and more than one starship had been lost within its beautiful swirling mass without ever reaching the planet within. It was the only reason the space station was there – a trading port, a meeting place for the Hetyran traders that sold their advanced technologies.

"Shore leave is always fun," the captain winked. There would be plenty of willing women on the space station he knew, plenty of gorgeous women.

….

The laser lights flashed rhythmically, the heavy beat pounding in her ears, reverberating through her small frame as she sat on the slightly wobbly stool. The stench of sweat, alcohol and sex burnt her delicate nose, an acrid tang that she could do nothing to stop. The bright blue liquid burnt her throat as it flowed downwards, leaving a pleasant hum in its wake. Soft lips parted in a sigh as she slammed the empty glass on the bar, waving for another. Really, she couldn't understand why Romulan ale was illegal; the potent drink was heavenly to her in that moment.

"Maybe ye should take it slow lass," he said, even as he pressed another into her waiting hand. She regarded him coolly, briefly wondering what a nice human was doing so far into the Beta Quadrant, on the edge of the Renyr Field. Beyond the gaseous field there was nothing but twinkling stars for miles. Perhaps he was on the run; perhaps he had committed a heinous crime which he could not atone for. Perhaps Earth simply had no need for him.

She downed the drink, closing her eyes. It seemed everyone was on the run from something. Then she scowled down at the drink, as if to blame everything on the ale that shimmered in the bright pulsating lights. Then she turned her head, silken strands of hair brushing against her forearm, a tingling sensation that almost sent shivers down her spine.

The bar was almost full, bodies grinding against each other in a weak imitation of sex, their bodies sweating. Men hoping to find women that they could take to their quarters, men hoping to find men. She could see their dilated pupils, the throbbing pulses in the bases of their necks. Her mind spun; a hazy blur as she shook her head to clear it even as the alcohol took effect.

She didn't know how many she'd had for she'd lost count after her sixteenth or maybe seventeenth. Perhaps the nice bartender should have cut her off. A low growl left her throat. She'd been waiting since 1800 hours. Six hours ago. She had been told she was like a viper, deadly and patient – biding her time until the opportune moment to attack. But there were times when her infamous patient eluded her – she had conceded that the man was not showing.

With a grin she placed the empty glass on the table, letting her hips sway slightly as she stood. The barely perceptible movement caused the thin material to stretch over her curvy hips in such a way that would draw the eyes of any male. She could at least enjoy herself.

Then she moved into the fray of scantily clad women, armoured men and the occasional Starfleet uniform. Heavens, the tight material of the uniform looked good stretched over taut muscle. Then her body was moving gracefully in time with the heavy beating of the drum, each sway measured and purposeful, her arms above her head as she twirled. Her mind was a blur, her nerves humming as the heavy bass pounded through her. Someone's hands were on her hips, his body moving sensually against her own. She let the feeling take her, allowed herself to be swept away in the night. A refined dance of danger progressed to a display as power and control as they leaped around the fire. Wild, rough, beautiful.

And then she was bumped. She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts to no avail. All at once the room felt over crowded, she could feel the sweat pouring off the bodies that surrounded her. Then she was spun around roughly. Disorientated, she blinked up into eyes the colour of the eternal night. The heavy scent of bitter ale washed over her as he leaned down, lust gleaming in his eyes. His fingertips were almost bruising on her slender waist as he crushed her to him. She could almost feel the reeking mortality exuding from his wide gaping pores. Fingers, clammy and trembling gripped her chin in a weak hold.

"Get off me," her voice was a low growl as she pushed against his chest, stumbling backwards and slapping his hand away all in the same movement. Perhaps he had not been to the space station before. Otherwise he would have known not to mess with a Hetyran.

But he tried to reach for her once more and she moved back even more, her feet striking a shard of broken glass. A startled gasp escaped her as pain lanced through her bare feet and she staggered back as her world spun.

Free of the dancers she grasped the first thing she could, steadying herself even as her dinner threatened to rise from her churning stomach. Her head was pounding, her foot aching. She could feel the blood flowing from the open wound. And then she froze, feeling the even, calm beating of a pulse beneath her fingertips.

Her startled gaze flew upwards to meet warm blue irises the colour of the summer sky over the Iradyl Plains, sparkling with amusement. Even in the dim lights of the club, even with her mind buzzing from over-consumption, she could tell he was handsome. Much more so than any other human she'd dealt with before. Sandy blonde hair fell over his forehead messily – in a way she knew would have every woman itching to play with it. Those blue eyes were alight with amusement as he grinned at her, an eyebrow raised rakishly.

"Captain James T. Kirk, at your service," his voice was a deep baritone, a rumble that sent shivers straight through her body and pooled heatedly in her abdomen.

She felt her world tipping once more and the darkness of her mind engulfed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1: **

He had not been planning on spending his shore leave sitting in the Medical Bay by the side of a woman he did not know. Preferably he would be in his quarter, a gorgeous woman beneath him wearing nothing but the thin regulation sheets that covered them. That stunning Deltan who had eyed him off when he had entered the bar had looked promising. With a groan he glanced at the clock as it ticked – an old fashioned device that Bones had assisted upon. 3 o'clock in the morning. 0300 hours.

He looked down at the woman once more, a frown on his face. Silken hair the colour of starlight surrounded her small pixie-like face like a halo, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Her full lips were parted slightly, revealing pearly white teeth, her eyes still closed. A small diamond of metal sat between her brows, as if someone had placed it there, where it would catch the light beautifully. Stunning: a face that would have put an angel to shame.

With an exasperated sigh he ran his hand through his hair. They'd landed at the dock little over five hours ago, heading to the bar for a drink. He'd been surprised when the stunning vision of a woman, dressed in loose-fitting cloth that shimmered like mercury, had stumbled through the throng of gyrating dancers to literally fall into his arms. He'd felt his heart miss a beat when those beautiful eyes had looked up in his, a mixture of surprise and attraction. And then she'd fainted. He'd only just caught her before her small frame struck the floor, calling for Bones.

The doctor had produced a tricorder from God knows where. The doctor's eyes had widened in surprise, shouting over the music. Something about irregularities, needing proper equipment, and something about her being very very drunk. And then Jim had swept her into his arms and left the club, letting Bones search for anyone who might have been looking for her.

He'd found no one.

His gaze followed Nurse Stirling, tracing the way the deep blue dress hugged her hips as she moved between the occupants of the other beds. Feeling eyes on her, the nurse looked up from where she was bent over one of the beds giving him an ample view of the deep shadow between her breasts. A smirk flitted to her pouty lips as she offered him a wink. _God, _celibacy did not suit him.

With another groan he looked back to the woman, his heart missing a beat when he saw her eyes were on him. Bones had said she would not wake at least until 0900 hours. But those stunning eyes of molten silver, framed by thick dark lashes, were regarding him curiously. All thoughts of persuading Nurse Stirling to one of the store rooms flew from his mind.

He opened his mouth, unable to form any words.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

"You should still be sleeping!" Bones' voice startled him. The cantankerous doctor was at him side, his usual frown on his face as he looked down at his patient. The doctor looked unusually severe, almost angry. But Jim knew him. The doctor was frustrated at something he did not understand.

"As you can see, I am not," her voice was as smooth a honey, melodious, a slight accent that he could not place. But the cold, detached words put him off. It was as if Spock were speaking through the woman's mouth. Perhaps she had been raised off-planet. Questions bubbled within him, threatening to spill. "I feel…better." A slight grimace flitted across her features, her delicate nose curling upwards slightly. Then she cocked her head to the side, regarding the doctor, a slight frown as if a sudden thought occurred to her. "You fixed me?"

"That I did," Bones scowled. Not even a beautiful woman could rouse the Chief Medical Officer from the eternal pit of crankiness he had fallen into, even when said woman raised her brow in a way much like Jim's self. Jim chuckled slightly at the thought, his grin remaining even when the doctor glared at him. But Jim was not stupid; he did not miss the way the doctor's brow furrowed even more when he glanced down at his PADD.

"Is something the matter, Doctor?" Perhaps it was the way her silver eyes shimmered, or the way her lips tilted up ever so slightly at the corner. But Jim instantly_ knew_ she was teasing the cranky doctor. Whatever it was, she knew exactly was wrong.

"A moment, Captain."

His tone, so serious, Jim knew was hiding bafflement. It was that, and nothing else, that caused him to follow the Doctor into his office with its one-way windows, instead of staring at the lovely vision of beauty that had stumbled drunkenly into his arms.

"What is it Bones?"

The CMO shook his head, indicating the need to wait. For who Jim didn't know. But his unspoken question was entered in the next moment when Spock entered. Jim's brows rose to his hairline. Things must have been bad for the CMO to go out of his way to contact the green-blooded hobgoblin.

Spock's dark eyes betraying nothing as he righted the deep blue of his uniform. But his zipper was not zipped up fully; his normally impeccably neat hair was slightly mussed over his pointed ears.

Jim grinned. "Did we interrupt something, Commander?"

Spock glared at him, as if his eyes could burn, but said nothing. Instead the science officer looked at the PADD that Bones held out to his, his dark eyes widening as they scrolled down the page. "I trust there is no mistake?" to one who didn't know Spock so well his voice would have sounded completely indifferent, but Jim could detect the slight change. Surprise; intrigue.

Bones glared at the half-Vulcan and faced Jim once more. "At the bar, the scans I took showed up alarming irregularities. I assumed it was blood-poisoning." He shook his head, placing the PADD gently on his desk as he ran his hands through his dark head. "But it's not. It's her blood that's the irregularity – it's _silver_ based. She's a Hetyran."

Jim started. He looked through the window to the woman who was staring at the screens intently, as if they would suddenly reveal the secrets of the Universe to her. She would have been his type had she been human, if a bit short. Then he laughed. Hell, she still was his type. He thought of the body-hugging dress she'd been wearing that accentuated those beautiful curves, definitely not a trader.

"Fascinating," for once Jim did not roll his eyes at his First Officer's choice of words; it summed up the situation perfectly.

"She has accelerated healing abilities – the cut on her foot is all but gone and there are no signs of infection," Bones continued, his frown deepening. "We don't have much information on the Hetyr; little to nothing is known."

Then his com started blinking. With a groan he glared at the infernal device. He was _supposed_ to have shore leave. "Incoming call, Captain. Admiral Pike," Uhura's voice told him. She seemed somewhat abashed at having to call him. Or perhaps somewhat flustered from whatever she and Spock had been up to on the bridge.

"I'll take it in my quarters," the captain said, curling his nose up in distaste. Then he turned to his friends without hesitation. Fool he may be on occasion, but he was still captain. He would let no harm befall his ship or crew. "Inform me of any finds. I want to know if this woman is a threat."

Neither man balked at the serious tone, instead nodding before looking back at the discarded PADD.

As he left the Medical Bay, summer blue eyes met with stunning mercury orbs. She was too beautiful, too innocent-looking, with those wide, wide eyes and the soft pouty lips. Then the words of a Shakespeare play he had been forced to read for high-school ran through his mind. _The Devil wears the face of an Angel. _

And with that his eyes slid from hers, and he left the Medical Bay, the doors snapping shut with a swoosh behind him. But not before he saw the slight smirk that tugged at her lips. Threat or not, he'd still fuck her.

….

"James," Admiral Pike nodded in greeting. The screen – so large and perfectly detailed – did nothing to hide the worried crease between the Admiral's brows. It was the reason he liked the Admiral – he did not bother with airs and formalities. "We've had a request from the Hetyran Empire, a mission."

"But they are not part of the Federation," Jim felt his brows rise. The Hetyran Empire had no definitive allegiances, a secular civilisation which had war technology that dated back past the Vulcans. Their starships were the most advanced in the universe, his fingers were itching at the thought of even getting to see such a beautiful craft. But since the Nero incident more and more races were determined to obtain the advanced Hetyran technologies, pre-emptive caution to another attack. If they were so advanced, why had they called upon the aid of Starfleet?

The Admiral merely shook his head, indicating his own lack of understanding. "They have requested assistance to find a fugitive, a highly dangerous man they call a 'hacker'. A term I believe does not coincide with our definition. Their Emperor contacted Command personally, but he did not disclose much information, only that this fugitive is highly dangerous and a threat to all planets, not just their own." He paused for a moment, considering his next words. "I suggested you James, I know you would have been getting bored by now and Hetyr II is located not far from you. Somewhere within the Renyr Field."

"Have you a picture of this person?"

"I'm sending it through now." The screen blinked for a moment, as if winking out of existence to show Jim the plain white screen that doubled as his bedroom wall. Then it fuzzed, and Jim stared in shock. Wide eyes the colour of molten silver looked back at him, in a pale face, full lips slightly parted. Silken hair the colour of starlight with random plaits strewn throughout it.

"Person of interest: responsible directly for the death of three hundred," Pike said, reading from a report, Jim guessed. "Indirectly responsible for the destruction of a city and the death of two thousand more. Enhanced speed, enhanced regeneration capabilities, enhanced senses. Species: Hetyr. Name: Unknown. Alias: The Unmasked One. Age: Unknown. Classification: extremely dangerous. Wanted dead or alive." There was a pause, before the Admiral continued, his voice troubled. "Sector 31's sending someone to you. They had someone in the area. Your mission is to find the Unmasked One and take them to Hetyr to stand trial."

Jim stared at the face once more. The distinctly _male_ face before him.

"What's the matter James, you look like you've seen a ghost," Pike's face was peering down at him once more, the face of the unknown man gone. But the data, he knew, would have been downloaded to his PADD already.

But Jim shook his head, unable to formulate the words.

"The Hetyr will be formidable allies if we succeed, James, we're counting on you for this," Jim nodded once, his mind swimming, even as Pike continued. "Also James, I've sent you the details for their other missing person. Someone their Emperor is very anxious to see alive: someone sent after the fugitive. The Emperor gave the impression he wishes this person returned at the first opportunity. Be careful James, you'll be on your own once you enter the clouds. Pike out."

Jim sighed. Really had he expected anything less? They'd been without excitement for a few weeks; he had started to get bored. But a fugitive with the death of thousands on his hands? And just his luck that Starfleet Intelligence was getting involved, Sector 31 no less. They must believe the man, whoever he was, caused a serious threat. His PADD beeped at him. With a groan he sat on his desk, looking at the small screen with wide eyes.

"Person of interest: bounty hunter, reports directly to the Emperor," he read with numb lips, not knowing whether he should be cursing or celebrating his luck. "Enhanced regeneration capabilities, enhanced senses. Species: Hetyr. Name: Aethyr Startoucher. Age: Unknown. Classification: ally. Wanted alive."

The face of his mystery woman looked up at him, perfect in every detail. Even down to the small diamond between her brows. The woman who had been sent to find an extremely dangerous fugitive but instead had stumbled into his arms, blind drunk and alone. The woman who was more beautiful than the models that had graced the covers of old-fashioned earth magazines. The woman the Emperor would give their weight in gold to return to him.

"Bonded to the Hetyran Prince."

_Damn my bad luck. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 – Two days Later:**

"You always this sure of yourself, Captain?" Aethyr raised a brow, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him. The too-handsome captain of the Enterprise. Lords she wished she could wipe that cocky grin off his face. She'd met his type before.

His grin simply widened. "Always."

Somehow she did not doubt him. The poster-boy of Starfleet had quite the reputation for himself. At least he did not try to deny it. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expect of the famous captain, but the man sitting across from her was not it.

Surprisingly intellectual, she did not find herself bored mindless by him.

"So what is it you do?" those summer blue eyes were curious, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forwards.

"I'm a programmer," she said. It wasn't a lie; not at all. She'd spent three years doing the work and had the qualifications, she'd even graduated top of her class. But it wasn't exactly the complete truth. No, she was quite a lot more. But that was need to know.

"A programmer?"

She thought for a moment, trying to find the appropriate term that he would understand. "Like an engineer." It was not quite accurate, but there was nothing else she could say that he would understand. Programmer's designed things; fighters, starships, even new security systems. But to a civilisation which was founded upon computers and electronics, such a thing was much more valued.

She watched with dread as a smirk flitted onto his lips.

"I'd love to test _your_ mettle," his voice dropped an octave, breath-takingly seductive. Damn him for being so good looking.

She narrowed her eyes in warning. She wished she could leave the bed; perhaps he wouldn't be so forward if he knew she could floor him easily. But even he did not falter at her expression, indeed it seemed his grin grew wider. She had half a mind to growl at him.

"See you later, Sparky," he grinned, mock-saluting her as he stood to leave the Medical Bay. Apparently his lunch break was over.

Of course she didn't tell him that wasn't how people saluted _her_.

….

Agent Wering's hands clenched to fists at his sides, glaring at the cocky young captain before him. The very captain who had risen to command through sheer _luck_. The Sector 31 agent made no secret of his disdain for the gold uniformed youth. Who was currently _blocking his way_.

With a sneer he turned his head, catching his reflection in one of the many pieces of equipment that the Medical Bay kept. Dark eyes, almost black, looked back at him. It was not required of him, but he kept his dark locks shorn close to his head – like the old-style military. The dark leathers he wore accentuated his muscles, he knew, for he could see admiration in the eyes of the pretty nurse that sidled past them with a wink at Captain Kirk.

"I'm sorry, she's not yet recovered," the young man was saying. The _boy_, he corrected his own thoughts. "Your questions will have to wait until another time."

"Do you take such interest in every patient, _Captain_?" he could not keep the sneer from his voice, and he saw the Captain's eyes narrow at him – the blue irises flashing dangerously. A colour that could have surpassed the beauty of the gaseous clouds that surrounded the ship as they spoke, as Sulu navigated the way through the debris that assailed the Enterprise. Overhead the lights flickered.

"Patients who the Hetyran Emperor especially wishes to have returned, yes."

Wering let out a frustrated snort. For three hours he'd been on the ship and he'd seen none of the mystery woman who was supposedly the second person mentioned in the report he had been given. Who just happened to appear when they had not yet begun searching for her? It spoke of subterfuge and trickery, for he did not believe in coincidence. The woman in the report: Aether Startoucher, second in command of the Guard – the elite force that protected the Hetyran Empire. She was no trader and surely the Emperor would not send his favourite pet out alone to capture such a dangerous man. There was another reason that the woman had appeared on the space station.

But the Captain would not relent. Perhaps the woman had cast a spell on him – for little was known about the mysterious race that had silver for blood. For the security camera's he had looked at had shown the Captain visiting the woman often – more than five times a day. For the pleasure of her conversation perhaps?

He almost snorted. It would not surprise him in the slightest if the woman was still getting dressed after a visit from the amorous captain. Aethyr was her name. Pretentious.

He'd seen a man who'd once 'interviewed' a Hetyran merchant over their weapons. The silver-eyed man had walked away unscathed, but the agent…he had been little more than a shivering child, scared of his own shadow. A simple brainwashing had been the procedure, a mind invasion that had somehow backfired and turned his brain to mush.

The beeping of the captain's com startled him from his thoughts, even as he berated himself for losing focus.

This case was the one that would cause his rise to fame – he would uncover the lies behind the Hetyr Empire and their evil intent. And he would destroy them. Perhaps an illness to wipe out their race, or a simple assassination. It would be easy. As long as he got the right person.

"We're experiencing difficulties, Captain," it was Lieutenant Uhura's voice, he recognised belatedly, even as the Captain was moving away from him. The sexy woman with long legs the colour of mocha and captivating dark, dark eyes. "You're needed on the bridge."

Then a grin formed across his face as he looked at the cleared door.

It opened with deceptive ease, his agent's code overriding the need for a handprint. It would not work for personal chambers, but the separate quarters in the Medical Bay…they were not private.

She was laying there, as if she were sleeping, her hair fanned out around her. But the monitor betrayed her brain activity – even though her breathing was deep and even, the small metal diamond on her forehead shining in the dim lights.

She looked too beautiful for words.

His fists flattened themselves as he found her pressure points.

….

She could feel his eyes on her, but she did not freeze. She was not a mouse in the gaze of a raptor. She'd faced far worse things than _him_. He was foolish to think he could intimidate her. Strapping her to a chair with nothing but a pair of electrical handcuffs. In a room with silver walls and nothing between them save a steel table.

"I'm authorised to extract the truth from you at any cost," his dark eyes narrowed at her. She wondered idly if he'd ever interrogated a Hetyran before. She could feel the blood had already dried on her face, and her starlight hair covered her temple where the wound had already healed. Her shoulders were stiff and she was _pissed_.

"Article 14, Sector 31," she said, knowing he was listening intently to every word she said, recording everything to analyse at a later date. And she did not miss the shock that ran through those too-dark eyes. Let him wonder how she knew their Starfleet charter in vain; he would never find out that she had it memorised for her mission. A mission that was of far more importance than capturing a fugitive that had never left Hetyr II, far from any of the floating cities. He was most likely hiding in the Iradyl Plains, amidst the beautifully swaying grasses. But the Agent was foolish; she wondered how he'd ever gotten the job. "It makes allowances for bending the rules during times of extraordinary duress. Do you think I'm a threat, Agent? Should you not be searching for the fugitive? The Unmasked one?"

He snarled at her. Trying to frighten her? She laughed, a delicate bell-like sound. If he had ever faced a snarling leryt he would not think to intimidate her with such a weak expression. If he had ever seen thousands upon thousands of lifeless bodies he would not have tried. What exactly was he trying to glean from her? He could be a better agent than she had first assumed. For somehow he had managed to get past her self-appointed protector and the cynical doctor. "I know what you are, _General _Startoucher. I know your no simple errand boy to be sent out on the Emperor's whim."

She did not let her surprise show. And then a snarl threatened to form on her lips.

"Agent Wering wasn't it?" she cocked her head to the side. She could see herself reflected in his dark eyes – the very picture childhood innocence. Tempered only by the swell of her breasts and hips. She could almost see the thoughts that ran behind his eyes; he had been unprepared for a challenge. Wondering how she knew so much. He could not brainwash her, for her mind was locked behind an impenetrable shield, even stronger than most her race. Perhaps he knew that. It was why he had turned to torture immediately. "Tarsus IV was bad wasn't it?"

She saw his blow coming; unsubtle and graceless. She saw his face twisting in a rage that made him such a horrible agent: he should have remained cool and collected. It was easy to tilt her head back, his fist sweeping past her cheek. Then she was rocking backwards, on only two legs of the chair. She watched as his eyes widened slightly, knowing he was unable to do anything.

He was leant over the table between them, he had extended himself too far. Then she kicked.

Her foot connected with the steel table, and the steel table connected with his stomach. But it did not stop. Even as she fell backwards on the flimsy chair she watched as the cocky agent flew across the room, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud, his head following in the next moment. Then his eyes rolled back into his head as she landed on the ground heavily.

He would come to in a few hours.

She wondered idly if the handsome young captain was watching; if he would be impressed with the ease that she'd overcome a trained assassin. But then again, she was something quite similar. Then she shook her head, growling at herself. The captain's pretty blue eyes should not have affected her so; nor should his crooked smile. She'd seen enough of both on the news bulletins posted by Starfleet, hailing their hero. She'd seen enough of the holograms that Princess Emalynn hid in her bedchambers. With a soft laugh Aethyr freed her hands, breaking the bonds easily as if they had no wish to hold her – the electrical charges fizzling to nothing. Really the man should have read her bio. He was impeding her mission. She could hear the sirens wailing. Red alert. The ship was under attack.

With a slight roll of her eyes she pressed her hand to the pad that opened the door. Recognising her, the door slid open with a satisfied hum.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3:**

"Shields down to 35% Keptin!" It was Chekov who was the bearer of the unfortunate news as the Enterprise was rocked by another blast. The poor boy's eyes were wide with fright, and he could almost see the thoughts whizzing through the young genius's mind as he tried to think of some way to save them.

"Sulu!" Jim shouted above the din, above the red blaring sirens and the roaring of the blasts that the Romulan Warbird was raining down on them. Damn Romluans. He hoped Aethyr would be fine in the Medical Bay.

"It's too unstable to go to warp sir! The gases are messing with the system," was the helmsman's prompt reply as his fingers flew over the helm. Sparks were flying and he gritted his teeth as the ship rocked once more. Apparently they were not the only ones to have heard of the reward offered by the Hetyr Empire for their fugitive. And the Romulans somehow believed that they had already captured him – their Warbird with capabilities beyond what was normal had followed them into the Renyr Field. Since the Nero incident the treaty with the Romulans had been rocky, but he never would have thought they would open fire. To do so was an open act of war upon the Federation.

And their shields would not much hold for much longer. They were sitting ducks.

The ship rocked again and he was out of his chair, watching as Sulu slid from his – his small eyes startled. And then his head hit the bench before his with a sickening crack and his eyes slid shut as he passed into unconsciousness, even as they were forced backwards towards the meteor belt that would crush the starship.

"Spock!" His first officer understood, without words, what was required of him. In his blue uniform he lifted Sulu's limp body, red blood trickling down his face, and ran with swift steps from the steps. Jim barely registered the hum of the door sliding closed as the ship lurched violently.

"Shields at 25%, sir!" Chekov's voice was almost frantic, the young boy's face was clenched with fear as he tried to think of a way – any way – that would save them from the vicious assault.

"What's the status, Captain?" her melodious voice was like the calm before the storm, threatening something deeper and wilder. He glanced across at her, watching her silver eyes darting from place to place, taking everything in. There was no ghost of a smile on her lips – nothing of the quirk was visible as she stood in nothing but the thin hospital gown.

"Romulan Warbird; wants your fugitive," he said quickly, not knowing why. Perhaps she could help? Her eyes rested on the empty helm. "Shields down to 25% and we're firing everything we can."

Then her eyes met his, and he felt his heart stop. He didn't hear the sirens anymore, or the blasts. He could see something in those eyes; seeking, imploring. "Do you trust me?" her voice was a soft whisper that only he would have heard.

Without hesitation he nodded.

And then she was in motion, like a wraith she flitted through the chaos around her and slid into the seat that Sulu had vacated, the red blood still dripping from the terminal. And then her pale hands were on it, and he watched as her lips opened slightly as in ecstasy, her eyes fluttered closed. In that moment it seemed that all the lights at the station had flickered on and the Enterprise gave a low rumble, as if awakening from a deep sleep.

Her eyes snapped open, the hulking Romulan Warbird reflected in those silver orbs. The diamond shone in the light cast by the panel.

"Captain, full power in the rear shields," she said calmly as her fingers darted over the panel, leaving a trail of glowing lights in their wake.

Silence.

"Keptin?" Chekov's voice was unsure.

Summer blue eyes met molten silver. He nodded. "Full power in the rear shields!" he roared. "And hold on tight!"

God he hoped they'd make it through.

And then the ship lurched, turning. Straight towards the meteor belt that loomed before them like a wall of death. But Aethyr was weaving through like the ship was no more than a motorbike weaving through traffic. The Warbird would not follow them.

It could not.

"Shields at 15%, sir!" Chekov almost shouted and Jim knew the boy's heart was in his mouth, watching as the starship wove through the meteors, the debris hitting the battered shields. Weakening them even more. No pilot would have dared brave it.

And then they were through, and it was as if the ship sighed with relief. Aethyr's eyes bright with excitement as she turned to him with a grin. "Shield's at 15%, sir!" she laughed. "But we made it."

The sound that followed was like thunder, and Jim tensed. And then belatedly he realised it was cheering, whoops of excitement. At the pleasure of being alive.

He watched with amusement as Chekov sagged with relief.

Perhaps the mission was more dangerous than he had ever dared believe. Then he looked at Aethyr, who had sidled beside him. He wrapped an arm around her small frame, pulling her to his body. Surprise and pleasure raced through him as her startled silver eyes glanced up at him through thick lashes, a peculiar silver blush spreading over her cheeks. It would have looked strange, he thought, on a human. But the skin sort of sparkled. With a chuckled he rested his chin on the top of her head, noting again how small she was.

"Good work, Sparky," he laughed, relief coursing through his veins. Admiration coursed through him; unbidden and strong. Admiration for not just her face and body, but for her courage as well.

"Indeed," it was Spock's voice in his ear that caused him to straighten and release the Hetyran. "Miss Startoucher, are you aware that the chance of you succeeding was 3.021%?"

Jim noted that the small woman did not shrink under the gaze of the half-Vulcan. Indeed, all she did was brush her hair over one of her own pointed ears and nodded, almost curiously. "Of course, Commander Spock. And the chance of us staying alive whilst under direct fire was 0.078%."

He could have laughed when Spock stared at her, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly. "Fascinating."

Uhura was smiling when she snaked an arm around the science-officers waist, her deep red uniform clashing drastically with his blue one. The dark-skinned beauty's eyes were alight in a way that had Jim yearning for someone of his own. Then he shook his head, laughing. Single life suited him just fine. He liked being the Federations no. 1 bachelor.

"You!" it was Agent Wering's infuriated voice that roused him from his happy state. His crew and ship were safe for now, was he not allowed a moment's peace?! Obviously not, for the Sector 31 agent was glaring at the woman by his side, his dark eyes almost ablaze as if he sought to pierce the woman's very soul. "Stand aside, Captain," the man growled, stalking forward. "You are impeding an investigation that threatens the safety of every Federation planet. It is our mission to find the fugitive – a murder. And this woman knows something!"

Jim almost snarled, and stepped forward. Had he been Spock he would have analysed his actions at a later date – in hindsight saying that it was to protect the fragile-looking woman from a man who sought to harm her. A woman who had just saved all their lives, and as Captain he was indebted to her. But in that moment he thought nothing, only to keep her away from the man with vicious eyes, though he suspected she was more than capable of protecting herself.

"She knows where he is!" Wering cried desperately, stabbing a finger in Aethyr's direction. His face was so twisted he barely looked human.

But he was shocked into silence when Aethyr stepped forward in nothing but a hospital gown, looking at her attacker calmly. "Of course, he never left Hetyr II."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4:**

Jim paced before her. She found herself watching the throbbing pulse in his throat, travelling up the length of his neck to where his strong hands ran over his face in frustration. Her eyes caressed his face, gazing over the sharp features – so masculine, so unlike the delicate beauty of Hetyran men. There was something dangerous about him, something wild. She could never predict what emotion would flash through those eyes which could be as playful and cheeky as the summer sky, or as dark and foreboding as a winter storm. It was the latter as he pace. His full, luscious mouth was turned down in a frown. A mouth that looked so much better when it grinned.

She tore her gaze away. _Stupid_, she told herself. She was not meant to be admiring him. He was destined for another and so was she. She tugged at the hem of the crimson shirt she'd been given to wear, almost nervous. The deep red of old human blood. An unused Starfleet uniform.

A _redshirt_, she'd heard someone joke.

"What were you doing at the bar, if not searching for this mysterious fugitive?" he demanded, his gaze probing hers as she looked up once more. _Ah, _she'd wondered when it'd come to that. It was as if the small meeting room was closing in around them as he gazed at her. She almost lurched forward as the ship rocked again; they _knew_ none other than a Hetyran could navigate the Renyr field, but Agent Wering had protested against her at the helm. And after her revelation she discovered that Jim no longer trusted her fully. And then he was before her, gripping her shoulders.

She didn't think. A snarl tore through her teeth and she grabbed his wrists, flipping him as easily as it would be to lift a child. Once sitting on his waist she could feel the pulse in his muscled stomach, she could feel his slender hips against the insides of her calves. She blinked, glancing down at the shocked expression on his face – one that certainly did not match the way she had her teeth bared at him. Her jaw fell slack, an apology one the tip of her tongue.

But he grinned at her, raising his eyebrow in the way that told her he was about to – "By all means, stay where you are. I quite like you there."

Was she human her cheeks would have flushed scarlet, but as it was she could feel the silver blush creeping along her cheeks. "To answer your question, Captain, I was meeting someone." She lifted herself up, sitting on the hard steel table once more – so like the one she had kicked at gent Wering, who had not regained consciousness. Then she frowned, recalling that night that she had been _rescued_ by the Captain. The man had never shown up.

"Who was it?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then decided better of it. She had no reason to lie to him, not about that. "Someone I believe you are acquainted with. He contacted me asking him to meet him. But he never turned up."

She felt Jim narrow his eyes at her from his position on the floor. She refused to think of how _good_ he looked like that, looking up at her with such naked lust. And jealousy? She knew he trusted her, at least somewhat. Saving ones ship and entire crew would do that. "Who was it?"

"Spock," she said, a frown marring her features for a moment, even as his eyes widened. "But not your Spock. He was older. He had information for me."

"Spock Prime?" Jim's shock was written over his features as plain as day. Of course he would not have suspected. She could see the thoughts running through his brain. Why would he contact _her_?

She pressed a hand to her forehead. It would be so much easier if she could _show_ him.

….

"You want him to _what_?" Uhura's voice tore through several octaves on the last word. But even with his sensitive hearing, Spock did not flinch. He was used to such displays from the dark-eyed beauty.

And he could understand her incredulity. He stared at his captain and friend, whose golden uniform seemed almost green in the lights of the mess hall. The Hetyran woman by the captains side was nodding, such a slight movement that a human would not have noticed.

"A mind-meld," Jim repeated with a grin. "With Aethyr. She says that things are more easily understood when seen."

….

The shock was like waking up to a bucket of ice tipping over his head. The icy shock; the slight panic at the unknown. Before he got his bearings and realised where he was.

Aboard the USS Enterprise, in his personal chambers with his meditation candles surrounding him. Inside Aethyr Startoucher's mind.

Her mind was like a heavily guarded vault – he'd never seen such extensive mind guards before. But he could not contemplate it, for in the next moment his consciousness was sucked into the swirling chaos of her mind. Flashes passed before him as he witnessed her memories as she sorted through them. Shapes and colours swirled passed his mind's eye.

"He's not for you," a voice, startling familiar, echoed around him before he felt her push the thought away. As _they_ pushed the thought away. In that moment Spock was her.

And then he was looking through her eyes at a memory. Hazy, blurry, as if it were a half remembered dream. Laughter surrounded him/her, a joyous bubbling sound. There were no images, only sunshine and smiles. Happiness surrounding him/her. She could have been no more than a child, looking up into the loving faces of her parents.

_Flash._

He was shocked to find the burning clarity of her vision. He could count the individual lashes, thick and dark, that framed the wide staring eyes of a woman more than ten feet away. He could feel the shock that rippled through her small frame, the terror that ran through her veins. Her vision could have rivalled his own perhaps, or was perhaps better, for he/ she was looking at the scene before them through tear-blurred eyes.

Smoking tendrils rose in the pink-tinted sky, staining the sky. Again her vision surprised him.

But that that clarity was what made the memory she showed him all the more horrible. The bright silver blood that still flowed was like mercury, bright shining silver in the fading sunlight. _Drip. Drip. _He watched as a single drop of blood ran across a limb finger, caressing the tender skin of the hand. He watched with morbid fascination, as Aethyr had, as the single droplet fell to the ground with a soft splash off a hand that was far too small. _Drip._

A child's hand.

The body was nowhere to be seen, severed as the wrist in a congealed pool of silver.

The blood dropping was like the pitter patter of rain, he/she could hear all the blood falling. A macabre symphony that assaulted his/her ears.

The scent of smoke and death filled the air, burning his/ her acute senses. A city in ruin. Beautiful sleet grey towers smoking, the cloud of death above. And across the field before the city were hundreds of bodies. The remains of a battle. The bodies still fresh. Bright silver blood flooded the plain.

And then he/she was running. Bright white hair, streaked with blood whipped around a small face. He could feel the panic that welled within her, threatening to spill as her head whipped from side to side, glistening tears blurring her vision. Running away from the field of death where thousands upon thousands of bodies lay, their limbs twisted at horrible angles, their silvers eyes unblinking and unseeing.

There were no groans of the dying as he/she ran passed the wreckage of a fighter. He dimly noted that she did not recognise the make of the Empire vehicle, its guns still smoking. The glass that protected the cockpit was splattered with blood – as if someone had splattered shimmering thick paint over a delicate canvas.

And then his/ her foot caught on something and the horrible sensation of falling shivered through her small frame before she struck the hard-packed dirt. Pained lanced through the small body, a heart-wrenching sob tearing through her lips as she opened her eyes to see the dark grey regulation boots. And then she saw no more.

Spock was reeling and wondered if his physical body showed his inner distress. Aethyr had perhaps been nine – old enough to understand the devastation, but too young to know who to blame.

_Flash._

When she showed him the next memory in a flash he was shocked to find none of the distress within her mind – a cold calm had washed over her, her mind ordered and sharp, information welling within from the three years of training she'd had as a programmer. Her mind was focused, almost with killer intent as he/she bowed to the majestic figure before them.

A man with long silver hair and eyes the same colour, upon a beautifully silver-wrought throne. The Emperor, he felt her mind register. The most powerful man on Hetyr II, dressed in robes of the palest blue. There were two women at either side of the powerful man, dressed in nothing more than a lattice-work of steel flowers that left expanses of their creamy-white skin showing. The same lattice-work that decorated the slender shoulders of the Emperor.

But with a perception that surprised Spock, Aethyr let her gaze sweep the room from beneath lowered lashes, observing. Taking everything in. The room, with two exits, was all metal and angular, the men and women inside looked as if they had all been washed of colour. Silver hair and silver eyes, varying shades, but there were not true colours. There were touches of blue, but their clothing – a shimmering silk that looked lovely to touch – was as white as Aethyr's hair and their jewellery was a deep sleet grey. Delicate lattice-work that adorned shoulders, hips and necks. And feathered masks, beautifully wrought, covered their faces leaving only small pointed chins and silver-painted lips visible.

"What is your name, child?" the Emperor's voice was as melodious as Aethyr's own, and just as feminine. It was a kind of feline beauty that gave the Emperor his attractiveness, Spock guessed – a kind of femininity that some females enjoyed.

But he directed his gaze to the younger Aethyr once more. She did not tremble under the gaze of the most powerful man in her world. Her silver cat-like eyes met his, almost defiantly. "Aethyr, your Majesty."

"Aethyr, who survived the attack of the Unmasked one," the Emperor said. "What is it you seek?"

And Spock was taken aback at the white-hot fury that rippled through her. The fugitive that Starfleet Command had instructed them to search for. The man, he deduced logically by the horror on the faces of those present and the emotions tearing through Aethyr's small frame, who had caused the massacre she had shown him.

"Employment, Majesty," she said in a voice much older than her own. It was as if the weight of the world rested on her slender shoulders. "I wish to join your Guard."

It was no singular memory that she showed him after that; simply flashes.

_Flash._

Three of the Emperor's guards before her, their muscles tensed, their hands locked on their phaser-like weapons. And then a shimmering blue shot was sizzling past his/her ear. Then the man was on the ground, her foot on his throat, his gun spinning across the room. He saw Aethyr's reflection in the dark visor that covered the man's face. Pixie-like, perhaps fifteen years old by human standard, with eyes as hard as steel. Her stark white hair the same colour as the new Guard uniform she wore, twisted in a tight bun atop her head. A shining steel diamond embedded in her forehead.

"I yield," the man's voice was muffled slightly by the pressure of her boot-clad foot. Without hesitation he/she tapped the bundle of nerves in his neck and he slumped into unconsciousness.

_Flash._

"Startoucher, you have come far," she/he was before the Emperor once more, who was smiling down upon her indulgently as he stroked a strand of his long silver hair. "You are a valuable asset to the Guard. Completing your training in three years, top of your class no less. Impressive."

He felt the pride that flushed through her, but something more sinister as well. A burning for revenge that ran through her blood.

_Flash._

Then it was shock and horror that ran through his mind once more. Fear, but not for herself as she gripped the firearm, pulling it from the holster on her thigh with fingers encased in a strange dark material, her arms enclosed by metal devices that he could almost feel humming. His/ her hand did not shake as she stalked through the dark tunnel, the sound of three heartbeats pounding in her ears – lighter and faster than a humans, like a hummingbirds wing. But it was trepidation at what they were to find that coursed through him/her. The now-familiar scent of blood burnt the delicate nose.

"Lieutenant, no one is responding," a voice said to her left and he felt her dread; a memory of the shockwave that had knocked them all off their feet even below in the sewers.

And then they burst into the light.

And the contents of his/her stomach threatened to rise.

Once more bodies littered the area. Small children, their limbs hacked off, blown to pieces. And Aethyr standing before the scene in a suit of the purest white, her knuckles tight at her side. He could feel the disgust.

"A bomb?" the unknown voice echoed through the air. But he/she nodded tersely, a string of curses leaving her full lips.

"Check for survivors," her voice was hard. She knew there would be none; the detonation had been too powerful.

Medics moved through the bodies, trying in vain to find any who still lived. Three hundred children. Dead. The horror of such a crime disturbed him. For he could not imagine the effect of such a thing.

"This has to end," she whispered the words to herself, but Spock could feel the tears that rolled down her face. Glittering tears, touched with silver fell to the ground. Mixing with the silver blood of the innocent. "He will pay." She felt her conviction. Nothing would stand in her way.

_Flash._

He felt his mind reel, his brain rejecting the image before him. His own face, lined with aged – his own dark eyes looking into Aethyr's own from the other side of the screen. A man he had seen before. His future self. Beyond his own surprise he felt Aethyr's relief. The memory was perhaps only a month or two old, it burnt with an amazing sharpness that the older memories did not have. But it was not that which shocked Spock – it was the concern that was clearly evident in the half-Vulcan's dark eyes.

Beyond the screen the dark vastness of empty space spread out before the fighter she flew. He felt her pride at flying the sleek craft, beautifully sleek and streamlined for speed. He could feel the pleasure in the back of her mind, underlying the situation. The thrill of flying, and an undercurrent of something else, a _connection_, something he could not grasp fully that was a constant pressure in her mind. Something that eluded him when he thought he could trace it.

"Aethyr, you have to stop this, it can't continue," the voice was foreign to Spock, riddled with a multitude of expressions. Gratitude and annoyance ran through her at his concern. Followed by anger and despair.

"The Emperor does nothing but think of marrying off Princess Emalynn," Frustration as her hands slammed down on the control panel before her. The resounded snarl of the craft seemed to echo her emotions. "What can I do?"

"Find James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, he can help with negotiations," Spock Prime told her/him from the screen to her left as her ship tore through empty space, nothing but twinkling stars in sight. "My younger self cannot disagree, for an alliance with the Hetyran Empire would benefit the federation greatly, for they do not have the technologies of your people."

Surprise.

Understanding.

Acceptance.

He felt the emotions run through her as she analysed everything in a way that would have impressed even Surak. "I'll speak to the Emperor."

And then Spock was blinking into bright silver eyes, his fingertips still at her temples. His heart was thudding in his chest and he wondered what his face looked like for Jim was staring at his with a startled expression. He schooled his features into a mask of calm indifference.

"The rebels are led by the fugitive, the Unmasked one," Aethyr said softly, pain clearly visible in her silver eyes. Jim must have sensed it too, for the Captain rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her lips trembled slightly, an uncharacteristic display of weakness but in that moment Spock understood why the Captain was so attracted to the stunning ethereal beauty. "It is punishable by death to speak his name. He believes the current Emperor to be a usurper – Emperor Hanyl killed his brother before the man's children reached adulthood. But there are still many who believe the throne belongs to the fugitive – the eldest son of our last Emperor. This war has taken many lives."

"But that does not explain why you are here, for this search for the fugitive is ongoing," Jim's frown was directed at himself, not the woman, Spock knew. "Especially if the fugitive never left Hetyr II. Why did your Emperor send you?"

"He didn't," Spock watched as the woman's eyes hardened as she regained control of herself. Perhaps the Hetyr were not so different to Vulcans – for he had seen no emotions on the faces of those in the presence of the Emperor. "I came here to meet Spock Prime, as you call him. He told me he had information that would help me restore peace to Hetyr II, but he never turned up. My only condition from the Emperor was that I would report back to him every two hours. My intoxication rendered me unable to do so. I failed to report back, when I was on your ship. The Emperor must have feared me taken by one of the fugitives men."

"Well then, we need to find Spock Prime," Jim said with a grin that had he been human, Spock would have rolled his eyes at. He contented himself with raising a single brow. "And contact your Emperor to rest his mind."

….

"You believe her?" Jim was staring at his first officer as if the half-Vulcan had grown another head.

"It is logic," Spock replied, his face annoying calm. Jim ground out a frustrated sigh, tugged his locks with his hands. "It is not possible to lie in a mind meld."

"But what if she intentionally withheld information," Jim stressed. He wanted Spock to tell him he could trust her – for when it came to the beauty he did not trust his own judgement. He wanted her to be good, he _needed _her to be. Though he couldn't help but wonder why she had not mentioned her fiancé. He wondered briefly why it should matter to him; for he had never cared for such things before. But he pushed it from his mind; he needed to be the Captain.

"The possibility occurred to me, Captain, but I saw no logical reason for her to mislead us," the half-Vulcan said in his stoic voice that set Jim's nerves at ease. "But everything she has said about the rebellion matches Sector 31's databases."

Jim felt his brows rise to his hairline, a chuckle emanating. "You hacked Sector 31?"

Spock seemed miffed for a moment, turning away resolutely. "I simply borrowed Agent Wering's card. I did not break into it. Logically it was prudent to research Miss Startoucher's story."

"So what's our plan of action?" It seemed unlikely to him that Spock Prime would simply not show up. Something must have prevented him. "Search for your future self? Or head to Hetyr II?"

He laughed aloud as Spock's brow rose further. "He is my alternate future self; that is no longer me or who I will be. And would it not be logical to seek the fugitive? It is the mission given to us by Starfleet and we would also be returning the Emperor's Guard member."

Jim grinned, then slapped his friend on the back. "You can go to Uhura now, I won't keep you any longer." Then he winked, and left the room, the door humming behind him.

With a laugh he headed off to Aethyr's quarters. _Perhaps she'll be up for another round of 3D chess or perhaps some sparring. It'd be _interesting_…._

….

Aethyr watched as the two men parted ways, one gold uniform and one blue. Her eyes followed Jim, his grin in place as he made the familiar path towards her room. The screen flickered; the security footage zooming in on Jim's laughing blue eyes before she turned it off, placing the PADD Jim had given her on the desk.

She knew Sector 31 had been investigating Hetyr II and the war; a war that had the potential to spread to other planets. Intergalactic war; for the technologies of the Hetyran Empire were sought after by all – especially after the Nero incident which had caused the rebels to act faster. Foolish Sector 31 who acted so far outside of Starfleet regulation. She knew they hoped to keep it contained: Agent Wering had the virus in the storage unit in his quarters.

Annihilation of an entire race was seemingly not above the agents who had no scruples.

But it had been easy for her to alter the settings on the freezer; destroying the vials of the offending liquid.

A smile flittered across her face as her door buzzed. Her mission was going perfectly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5:**

"What is _that_?" Uhura's voice was incredulous as the object appeared before them, the luminous clouds of gas parting to reveal the circular object perhaps half the size of the Enterprise.

Spock's eyes assessed the craft – for that's what it logically was. But he could see no entrances or exists, the exterior appeared completely smooth, like a metal ball hovering in an area of eerie stillness. There was no debris around the craft, like the eye of the storm.

"A space craft, it appears," Spock stately calmly, looking to where Jim sat in his chair, swirling about slightly. The half-Vulcan almost rolled his eyes. _Almost._

The Captains eyes were narrowed at the circular craft.

"It's Station 5, the outer protection shield," Aethyr's voice, now familiar to him, reached his ears from where she sat by Sulu. For two days they had been battered about like a leaf in a storm tossed sea, stuck within the Renyr Field until Agent Wering had relented and allowed her to assist with the navigation. Their ship had fared better after that.

"What do we do?" For once the captain showed surprising insight; he seemed to realise that they would not simply be able to fly past. It would not surprise Spock if the circular craft reined the blue fire seen in Aethyr's memories upon them. There was a 97.823% chance of that happening if they proceeded without contact.

"Hail them," she said simply.

Jim nodded and a second later the screen before them flared to life, with none of the disturbing static that had crackled across in the past days. But it was not the clarity that surprised him, it was the woman who looked down on them with wide silver eyes. No, Spock amended his thought. Silver eye. The other eye was concealed by a circular metal device seemingly grafted to her skin, a shimmering black material covering her eye. It put him in mind of a camera lens and he found himself wondering if it had the same function. Was the artificial eye able to record? At the edge of the device there was a small blinking cerulean light.

"You are trespassing on Hetyr Space," the woman's voice was calm, melodious – similar in pitch to Aethyr, but the voice was detatched, emotionless. "Turn back now or your starship will be incinerated." She relayed the message as if remarking on the weather.

"Authorisation code: AXV986," Aethyr's voice matched the woman's and Spock turned to look at her, where she stood by the captains side. And he was surprised to see how well she looked beside him, a very aesthetically pleasing couple.

The woman on the screen blinked, as if seeing Aethyr for the first time, then her fingers flew across the pad in front of her. "General Startoucher," the woman said, mild surprise showing on her face. "You are in an unauthorised vehicle."

"I am." Had Spock been human he would have laughed at her words, and indeed the captain and lieutenant Sulu both looked close to laughter. But Aethyr's face remained calm; the only evidence of her mocking was in the slight sparkle of her silver eyes. Where the woman on the screen's eyes were like mercury at night, Aethyr's were the shimmering of a delicate white-gold chain bought from the most expensive product. And then his thoughts stopped. The woman had addressed the Hetyran woman as _General_. She'd showed him no rank in her memories.

A slight frown appeared on the woman's features before she schooled them into a mask of emptiness. He did not wonder at the reason for her lack of mask; for he had seen in Aethyr's memories that the Guard did not wear them. But the woman's dark eyes seemed to rest on the metal diamond imbedded in Aethyr's forehead – the function of which Spock had yet to figure out.

"I am Captain James. T Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise and we are here on a request from the Emperor," at the sharp gaze of the woman, Spock knew that the Captain should not have spoken.

Indeed, aside from her glare, the woman did not acknowledge the Captain's existence. "No outlanders, General. You know that."

Then he watched with mild fascination as Aethyr bared her teeth, a low growl escaping her. "You will let us past, _Lieutenant_." He did not miss the heavy inflection she placed upon the woman's rank. It would have been impossible to miss. But he calculated there was a 34.67% chance that the captain would have missed it. "The Emperor is indeed expecting us."

"And why has he asked the help of _them_?" that one mercury eye glinted.

"It's classified," Aethyr said simply and her tone brooked no argument. He idly wondered what would have happened had they not had the Hetyran woman with them.

The woman's silver-painted lips thinned, but she nodded and the screen turned black once more.

And then the Enterprise's thrusters flared to life once more, the starship moving forward, Sulu's eyes wide with shock. "Reaching destination in 76hours," the voice that resounded through the bridge was computerised, halting.

"Sulu, what's happening?" Jim asked the helmsman who was touching various buttons, almost frantic.

"It has been set to autopilot." It was Aethyr who spoke, now reclining on the seat beside the distressed helmsman who turned to stare at her. She looked the very picture of relaxation, her arms folded behind her head that reminded Spock of the captain.

A soft snort left him, far too low to be heard as anything other than a breath. But Aethyr's silver eyes darted to his and her lips curled upwards in a hint of a smirk. No human would have heard the noise. He had forgotten the woman's acute hearing – far superior to even his own. "The ship will navigate the course set for it," she continued.

"But the Renyr Field is ever-changing, how can you have a course charted?" he watched the captain's brow furrow in confusion. For such an intelligent man, he could be obtuse at times.

Then Spock realised what she was implying. What the station really was. "What does Renyr mean in Hetyran?"

Aethyr grinned. "Protection."

The station was able to give the starships a passage through – though Spock did not understand how they had turned the ship to autopilot without boarding and physically doing it – for though the field was ever-changing, they knew how they could get through. The reason why only Hetyr could travel through the Rennyn Field was clear to him as a trickling freshwater fountain. They had created the field. They controlled it. "Fascinating," he said softly to himself, for he would have liked to analyse the gaseous clouds.

"The field is impenetrable, even a Hetyran without the codes would not stand a chance," Aethyr told them. "It is the ultimate defence, but it is also a failing. Closed off as we are from the rest of the galaxy, my people could obliterate each other and none would ever know." Her eyes, those molten pools of silver hardened to the sharpest steel.

….

Jim laughed loudly, his mind pleasantly hazing, as Spock placed the shot glass back on the counter. So much for Vulcans not consuming alcohol. Not even he knew how much the half-Vulcan had consumed. Bones was glaring at nothing, as usual, still in his uniform having come straight from the Medical Bay. There were many perks of being a Captain; and with nothing better to do the best one was the power to throw random parties.

He felt his eyes slide to the door once more of their own accord.

"May I sit with you, Captain?" the voice that spoke to him was soft, spoken through delicately shimmering lips, the lights of the rec room casting long shadows over her cheekbones from her curling lashes.

He grinned as those lovely sapphire blue eyes looked up at him. Her form clothed by a skin-tight dress the colour of the ocean was barely concealed, the dress hugging her every curve with a high neck and long sleeves. But it left those beautiful long legs revealed to his sweeping gaze as she crossed them. He had no doubt in mind of what she intended when she took a seat on the bar stool beside him with that alluring smirk. Out of Medical Bay, Nurse Sterling did not wear her dark hair in its customary bun; instead in flowed down her back in a curtain of thick curls.

Hands that gripped the glass before her were encased in delicate black gloves, a gift from her father she had told him once. Her skin, ghostly pale under the lights was as perfect as Aethyr's. And just like Aethyr's it had his hands itching to caress it.

Perhaps his thoughts showed on his face, for the nurse leant forward, a wicked grin appearing. Her gloved hand tracing over his arm, a pleasant sensation that he always liked.

"Miss Startoucher, a _pleasure_ to see you," as drunk as he was, Jim did not hear the sarcasm that dripped from Stirling's voice.

"General, I hear you're called," he grinned, almost laughing at the way those silver eyes widened slightly before her lips tilted upwards in that smirk that looked sexy as hell on her face. She'd joined them from nowhere, getting another drink. "A bit young aren't you?"

He saw Stirling's eyes narrow at the woman who had suddenly captured his attention. "No younger than you, _Captain_," the woman answered, drifting away from them as if she did not feel the Captain's eyes raking her form, the way she wore the startling white leather that clung to her curves like a second-skin. Her feet clad in soldiers boots, though her steps were as light as leather. They he blinked, tracing up the back of her arm – where the swirling pale blue tattoo was naked to his gaze as it never had been before. Beautiful swirls encircled her lithe muscles, curling up over her shoulder and disappearing behind the curtain of her silken hair and beneath the hemline of her white leather shirt. _Did she taunt him on purpose? _

He felt his imagination taking over him; how far down did that mystical tattoo travel? Did it curl over her breast and stomach like a lovers touch?

Heat pooled through his body and he found himself out of his chair and following her before he realised what he was doing. It was easy for him to ignore the nurses flashing eyes when his gaze was riveted to the woman before him, weaving through the bodies of crewmembers that had already consumed far too much. Where had she gotten the white leather that revealed far too much of her creamy skin?

The pants hugged her shapely thighs and calves, accentuating the muscles that he had felt wrapped around his waist. The unflattering Starfleet uniform had done her no justice.

"Are you following me, Captain?" she was by the wall when she stopped, leaning back against it, out of the way of the dancers. One hell of a party. But they'd had nothing better to do.

Those silver eyes were looking up into his, one eyebrow raised. He wondered how long she'd been there, for there was a slight flush on her cheeks – that lovely silver blush that indicated her intoxication.

He grinned. "It's Jim. And yes I was."

"Whatever for?" there was a challenge in those eyes and he stepped forward.

"Would you dance with me, Aethyr?" He watched the goosebumps that prickled along that oh-so-soft skin, his eyes unable to keep away from that tempting tattoo, the way it dipped down between her breasts. It was not a single, unbroken line; it was a series of delicate swirls, intertwining and looping around. How he wished he could trace them. Perhaps the Hetyran had mind powers, like the Vulcans or Betazoids, for he found his hand resting on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the tender skin. He fervently hoped she was not a touch-telepath, for if she saw the images that were swirling through his drunken mind…He grinned. Perhaps he would like to see her reaction to those thoughts.

"I don't dance, Jim," his name upon her lips was like a purr, a sexy as hell purr. Fuck, he wanted her. He leant his arm against the wall, leaning in slightly as she looked up at him with those wide eyes. She was trapped between his body and the wall, a mere foot between them, yet she showed no discomfort.

"Then talk with me," he knew his voice was irresistible to most females – he'd had thousands of adoring fans on Earth who'd told him so. And not just Terran women. His eyes rested on the diamond in her forehead. "What's this?"

"A diamond of metal."

He laughed, he couldn't help himself, it flowed out of his like water and he moved his face closer to hers. Those soft lips were parte slightly, invitingly. "What is it for?"

"Much better, you have to ask the right questions," there was something in her tone, something he could not place. But he pushed it aside for another time. He wondered if any were watching them; he knew the men would be glaring daggers into his back, for he'd overheard crewman talking about the lovely Hetyran and what they'd do to her given the chance. Exactly what he wanted to do. "It denotes rank; only the General of the Guard is modified in such a way."

Jim's brow furrowed. "Modified?"

"Changed; you've heard of cyborgs surely," she was laughing at him, he knew. He could see it in the slight crinkle of her eyes, the way that one side of her lips quirked upwards. It was an expression he had come to recognise after working on the bridge with her. She tapped the diamond. "This, however, does nothing. It is like wearing a badge. In past times only a hacker could become General, and the metal diamond acted as a sort of conduit."

He lifted his other hand, his fingertips grazing over the cool metal, over her brow to rest on her cheek. The gap between them was barely a handspan and he watched, mesmerised, as she blinked, looking up at him from behind those thick lashes. "Did it hurt?"

There was desire in her eyes; he could see the barely concealed lust shimmering in those silver depths. He'd seen that look on too many faces to not recognise it. "Not at all," her breath fanned over his face, warm and sweet.

A delicious shiver ran up his spine as he moved his head downwards, his large hand playing over the smooth skin of the woman's upper arm. Silver eyes were half-lidded with desire, her lips falling open slightly, her pink tongue darting out to moisten them.

So close.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and he gazed down at her. A soft breath blossomed across his face, she was little more than a hairs breadth away. His lips met her full ones, his hands moving to tangle in her starlight hair, marvelling at the locks that caressed his fingers. Aethyr's lips were enticing, like the sweetest of fruits, her mouth opening obligingly, the taste of the fruity drink on her tongue.

He pulled back slightly. But she followed him, the low growl from her throat resonating through his body. And then her lips were against his, pressing harder, her gripped in the black shirt he wore, pulling him closer.

All she felt was his hot lips upon her own, soft and demanding, moving against her own in a heavenly caress. Fire raced along her veins, hot and strong, and she was acutely aware of all the places their bodies touched, his toned muscles against her feminine softness. So unlike the slender males of Hetyr.

Almost of their own accord her lips parted with a soft moan as his hands dropped hers to pull her closer – one around her slim waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Never,_ never_ had she felt such sensations.

Later she would have thought it was because of his experience. But in that moment she could think nothing other than Jim, Jim, _Jim_. His mouth against hers, his hands on her body, his heavenly warmth.

"Aethyr," his voice was ragged, little more than a breath when he kissed down the column of her neck. Feather-light caresses that turned her knees to jelly. Another growl left his lips as his teeth bit into the soft skin between her neck and shoulders.

Silver eyes snapped open.

"Fuck!" she pushed away, stumbling. "I'm sorry." It was all she managed to get out before the door slid open for her and she was running through the corridors. Foreign emotions coursed through her. Desire, longing and something more, something she would not, _could _not, acknowledge.

A growl escaped her lips as she reached her chambers, the door opening before she'd even touched the pad, as if it'd sensed her.

She stumbled inside but in her mind's eye all she saw was Jim's face, his pupils dilated, his mouth opened slightly, staring after her with raw desire. She couldn't do that to him. She couldn't do it to herself.

Not when he was meant for another.

One whom she was taking him to.

With another groan she lay back in her bed, her heart beating faster than usual. She ran her fingers through her hair, his scent lingering around her.

Her only comfort was imagining the look upon Prince Hanyl's face if he had seen. A soft chuckle escaped her, but it did nothing to dispel the turmoil within her. She could not understand how she could be destined to be with a man she hated, a man she could not stand the sight of. A vicious man who was truly little more than a boy who sought to break her. If only Spock had not told her that Jim would be happy with the woman he would marry.

And then she was cursing. Cursing the rebellion, cursing the Empire, cursing her mission. And she cursed Jim, for being so damn irresistible. For being too cocky and arrogant and kind.

With a groan she punched the wall, watching idly as the cracks appeared, the fissures running outwards like a spider's web.

….

Uhura laughed, throwing her hair back as she danced, her hips swaying to the music. The heavy bass pounded through her slender frame, the glittering gold dress sparkling beneath the lights. She'd watched Aethyr run past her as if fleeing for her life, and seeing Jim's expression when she turned she had no doubt about what had happened.

Her eyes met his, across the dance floor, dark orbs meeting warm chocolate. She grinned at those eyes that darkened. Wanting _her_.

She would approach Aethyr the next day, before they beamed down to Hetyr II. She wound through the dancers, her eyes never leaving his.

She would worry about her new friend in the morning. But tonight, she was Spock's.

….

In the chamber he paced, a low growl escaping his lips. No sunlight streamed through the small window – all he could see was the vast emptiness of space. It was not the solitude that bothered him – no – after seeing a century pass, being alone no longer bothered him. Perhaps at another time the solitude would have calmed him, had he been able to meditate.

But he could not quell the thoughts that ran rampant through his head – memories that would not relinquish their hold on him. He did not know how many days had passed, for he did not know how long he had been unconscious. He knew he shouldn't have pressed to meet Aethyr – the woman who could decide the outcome of the war. Or could destroy the planet.

A gun held to the Emperor's head, silver eyes calculating and filled with cold fury. Then a single shot. Silver blood spraying across the beautiful metallic walls and floor. A white uniform speckled with that same blood, her eyes wide with shock as the Emperor's body fell forward.

Spock Prime let his hand clench into a fist. He would get out. He had to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6:**

Jim's eyes widened as Aethyr approached them, her eyes and face guarded – as if she already wore a mask. Gone was the red security uniform she had borrowed, and in its place were clothes that would not have looked out of place on an angel. He didn't know how she got the replicator to make such a beautiful masterpiece, for it was as if she floated, her pale ice-blue cloak flowing behind her. The same colour material clung to her body, moulding to the perfect shapes and Jim couldn't keep his eyes from following the sensuous curve of her waist and hips. Hips that were encircled by the same sleet grey metal that covered her shoulders, an intricate network of small metal disks shaped like flowers that allowed her movement.

He thought he saw pleasure shimmer in her eyes for a moment, but then it was gone and his eyes drifted to those lovely lips that were painted a shimmering silver. He almost reached out for her, but he kept his hands firmly at his side when she reached him, taking her place in silence. She had run from him. He was not a genius for nothing; he knew when to not press. She would come to him, she wouldn't be able to resist.

With a terse nod he looked at Scotty.

"Energise."

And then the room was fading, replaced by clear open skies and clouds below them. He blinked. He did not know what he expected – perhaps snow-capped mountains and endless ice fields. Or maybe sweeping deserts and dunes like Vulcan.

But he was not expecting the city that floated above the clouds, its towers reaching towards the heavens, the bright metal shining in the sunlight that dazzled. The low hum of technology underlined everything, shapes zipping through the clouds below them – some kind of ship, darting in and out of the wispy mists. His first thought was how much he'd love to ride one.

And then he assessed the city before him – Alaryn, the greatest city of the Hetyran Empire. Home of the Emperor and where their greatest technologies were created.

Then he realised that there were no people flitting about like they would in any other city. He risked a glance at Aethyr, who was as coiled tightly as a snake ready to strike.

She nodded pithily to the white uniformed guards who stopped before them. He thought perhaps that their suits were made of lycra, like the morphsuits that were popular in the 21st century. But then he noticed the slight shimmer, and the thickness. It was armour, he realised. They had phaser-like weapons strapped to their thighs and visors that covered their entire faces.

"General," the voice was almost electronic, and Jim realised it was a voice distorter, so you could not tell who spoke. A defence mechanism almost. But then his eyes narrowed at the speaker, his eyes tracing the brace-like equipment that covered the arms on the suit – almost like robotic arms, and he could easily imagine that there were phasers built into it. But then his eyes narrowed at the joint – too thin to be merely covering the arm beneath. With something akin to shock widening his eyes he realised that they were the guard's arms that, unlike the others who did just wear braces, the figure before him had their arms _replaced _with the robotic limbs. The fingers were slender joints of metal with small flat discs where the pads of the fingers would be. "The Emperor is expecting you."

"At ease, Lieutenant." They must have had some kind of identifier on the suits that Jim could not see, for Aethyr suddenly grinned. "Good to see you too, Renylann."

The figure laughed, the sounds distorted through the speaker, but then the 'arms' lifted up to remove the helmet – the movements as smooth as real arms, as if the limbs were truly a part of _her_. The face revealed was every bit as beautiful as Aethyr, with eyes slightly smaller and a paler silver. Hair like woven silver was done in a simple bun atop her head, her lips quirked in a way similar to Aethyr's. But the two women did not embrace, they merely fell into step with each other, as if they had done so their entire lives.

Their movements perfectly in synch, like a pack of hunting lionesses the rest of the guard fell in behind them.

"I see the modification was successful," he heard Aethyr say, her voice almost clipped, as if they were being listened to. Her fists were not clenched, but he trained with her enough to know that that was no tell-tale sign of knowing she would attack. The woman laughed in response.

He could feel Spock tensed at his side and wondered what the half-Vulcan was seeing. He could almost taste Bones' disgruntled air. And neither did Uhura speak, the linguist was abnormally silent – her dark eyes soaking everything in.

"Don't even think of it Jim, I've seen that look too many times," Bones growled by his side. "She's _engaged_."

But Jim grinned and followed closely behind Aethyr.

….

"Aethyr, my dear!" it was a strong voice that rose over the din when the doors swept open. As if the Emperor had been watching the door. She saw his silver eyes fix on Jim immediately. The angles of his face were slender and beautiful; his eyes were a magikal silver and as penetrating as a hawks as he looked out over the crowds. Beside him stood an elegant woman, garbed in a floating white gown that trailed feet behind her. Her hair was piled atop her head in a striking bun, with long braids framing her small face, her silver-painted lips pressed in a thin line. The Emperor of the Hetyr and his Queen. Hanyl and Gwenvr.

The crowds parted before them as the Guard led them forward. Unnecessary grandeur – for all wore their finest masks. Beautiful gilded silver masks framed with extravagant blue feathers, speckled with sapphire and diamond. She looked into none of their curious silver gazes as she swept past them, as regal as any princess.

And then she was before them, bowing low as one of the Guard was expected. She was pleased that none of her dread showed when she looked up into the ecstatic eyes of her ruler that were hidden behind his profligate mask of wrought silver that covered the entire left side of his face and his forehead, wide large sweeping feathers surrounding it.

"My Lord Emperor, I have brought with me Captain James T. Kirk and the crew of the USS Enterprise," she said, her voice pitched to carry across the room. She knew the Emperor had no plan to discuss the war with the humans, it was all just formalities. "They have offered to assist us with negotiations with the Unmasked One."

"Of course, of course," Hanyl said, waving a hand. And like that her words were dismissed. "But such talks are meant for another time, for now is a time for use to celebrate. We feared you were taken from us by the Unmasked ones servants." His smile was not unkind, but neither was it sincere. She was a tool to him. Nothing more, and nothing less. The fuss over her disappearance was nothing more than a ploy to rouse Starfleet's interest. Her engagement to his son was little more than a publicity stunt – to make the prince more likable.

He sat upon his throne, indulging in decadent feasts and debauchery whilst she saved his precious Empire.

"Captain Kirk, I welcome you and your crew to our humble city," the Emperor continued. "Please, enjoy your stay."

"I am looking forward to it, Your Majesty," she heard Jim say, his voice sending jolts up her spine. She hoped it did not show on her face. But then dread once again filled her when another sweeping skirt filled her vision. "I only hope…" her breath caught in her throat when his voice faltered for a moment. "I can only hope we can be of assistance."

She risked a glance to the side to see Jim's eyes had widened slightly, admiration easily visible in them as he grinned. She could see the way his eyes moved, appreciating, caressing the tender curves presented before him.

"May I introduce my daughter, Princess Emalynn," Hanyl's voice was filled with pride and something else. And Aethyr let her eyes rise to see the woman who had so captivated the man who had become her friend. Encased in a gown of shimmering white, slender hips encircled by silver-work, the princess smiled softly, her silver lips curling beautifully as she offered her hand to the captain. Jim took it with another grin, pressing his lips to the pale flesh tenderly. Behind her mask, Emalynn's sleet eyes sparkled with pleasure.

Then Emalynn smiled at her, a carefree grin and moved forward to hug Aethyr.

She did not let her disappointment show as she returned the embrace. "I missed you," Emalynn whispered softly then giggled, her pleasure obvious and Aethyr pulled back to look at her.

The Princess of the Hetyran Empire; her friend.

The woman Captain James Tiberius Kirk was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

….

The panel flashed blue for a moment, scanning her hand before it clicked in affirmation and the door slid open.

"Welcome home, Aethyr," the voice that greeted her was tight, almost clipped. Had she not known better she would have guessed the voice belonged to a female between nineteen and twenty-five, raised in the city her entire life.

But she did know better; and stepping into the room she saw the speaker, whose head was bowed in deference.

"Good evening, One," Aethyr said. She didn't need to smile; for the droid


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7:**

**Super short chapter…standard disclaimer applies…also…REVIEW! Please **** I'm desperate to know what you all think…**

"A deal with Sector 31?" Jim almost laughed, but the expression on Spock's face prevented him. Surely it couldn't be true. Why would anyone on Hetyr II have reason to contact the Federations secret branch? "You're being serious."

Spock nodded tightly. "Affirmative, Captain. Uhura detected an attempt to contact Agent Wering directly, using an unregistered frequency."

Jim paced the extravagant chambers. More spacious and luxurious than starship would ever give host to – it held the kind of luxuries that he longed for when in space. _Space. _

The walls of the room were the strange sleet-coloured metal of the rest of the city – though it was not cold to the touch. His room was at the top of one of the spires, and from it he could see the expanse of the city. Tall buildings, thousands of feet high, a city of sparkling metal and the blinking of lights as the last of the sun's rays faded behind the clouds that he could see at the edge of the city.

The height did not bother him, though he wondered idly how high up they were as he looked down from the balcony. For even the lowest of the palaces spires were easily twice the height of any of the skyscrapers in San Francisco.

Running high hands through his hand he turned from the breath taking view. It just kept getting more and more complicated. He tried to imagine how a young Aethyr would have reacted when she first entered his room. Perhaps her silver eyes would have widened with delight upon seeing the canopied bed with its plush cushions of silver and black. The luxurious bed curved with the wall, a strange arc shape pressed against the flat wall to the other room.

Perhaps she would have run to the bed laughing and fallen back into the silken covers, falling asleep almost immediately.

But when she had escorted him to her room she had been cold and distant, not the quirky woman he had come to know. Perhaps she feared the very walls were listening. She had stopped at his door, taking note of the smaller chamber that was tiled intricately, seeing that the windows in that room were too narrow for even a child to slip through. She would have seen, as he had done, that there were only two entry points to the room, the wide open balcony and the heavy metal door which locked from the inside.

And then she had bid him farewell, saying only that she would see him in the morning. It was strange, he thought, that the Emperor would have his best warrior – the General of his Guard – the wait on him as if she were little more than a serving girl.

"What is _going on_ here?" he growled, sitting opposite Spock, resting his forearms on the metal table. It was no secret that he was a genius, for his aptitude tests alone showed that. But he was at a complete loss. The gauzy curtains fluttered in the slight breeze that drifted through the open windows.

"I do not know Captain," Spock answered, to Jim's immense surprise. It was that more than anything else that disturbed him.

….

Aethyr stared at the terminal in her personal computers, her hands frozen on the sensor pad. A snarl almost erupted from her as she looked at the face on the screen. It had been hard to trace the call, for it had been redirected through almost every system possible throughout the city. But the three years she'd spent learning how to program the computers were not for naught. She'd followed the trace diligently; but the fool who'd sent to call to Agent Wering had been stupid enough to use their personal terminal. And looking at the face on the screen she felt the bile rise within her at the implications of who had requestion the obliteration of their race.

This were far worse than she had ever imagined.

The rebels were growing bolder – there were some within the city. Though it was obvious they acted without orders from the Unmasked One; for the attacks were random and did very little damage.

They would have to move. _Soon._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8:**

Jim stole a glance at Aethyr, unable to keep his eyes from the way the white uniform hugged her breasts and slender shoulders. The bulk of the bracers she wore did not seem to bother her, her fingers encased in black gloves, emerging from beneath the metal bracers with their multitude of weapons. He wondered idly how they worked, for he could see no buttons.

She seemed wound tighter than the warp coils, her eyes fixed astutely on the food before her. Perhaps there had been another rebel attack. He could feel the tension in the air, the animosity radiating from her.

The man at her side looked like a younger version of the Emperor, with his almost feline face and long silver hair. But there was a malicious glint in those silver eyes that were barely concealed behind the lattice-work mask, silvers eyes which also raked Aethyr's form. _Prince _Hanyl, he thought, unable to hide the immediate dislike of Aethyr's fiancé. General of the Guard. The man did not look like he had ever handled a weapon in his life.

His sister, however, was smiling coyly at her. She was a stunning beauty, he noted, though he had not yet seen the entirety of her face. The dark blue feathers contrasted with her pale silver hair – the only bit of colour in the metallic room.

"So, you captain the Enterprise?" Emalynn asked him with a smile that was too soft for his liking. She seemed so fragile, as if she would snapped if he simply touched her. But he felt his eyes drift down her arm, which gave host to the same tattoo that Aethyr had.

"Yes, your Highness," he said with a grin, unable to miss the glance that Aethyr shot their way before looking back down at her breakfast. Was it a flash of jealousy he saw in her eyes?

"You should wear something more befitting your status, _Aethyr_," he heard the Prince hiss at his betrothed, and he saw as Aethyr stiffened. _How could he talk to her like that? _"You will be a Princess of the Hetyran Empire soon, you ought to be wearing a gown of the finest white silk."

Jim did not doubt why the Prince wanted her to wear such a thing, for the Princess opposite him wore one. It dipped low almost to her belly button, revealing the tattoo that brushed over her breast and navel, continuing even lower. Just his kind of clothing. He had to stifle a grin; though he could not picture Aethyr wearing such a feminine article.

"I am the General of the Imperial Guard, your Highness," her reply was cold and he could almost feel the hostility radiating from her. "This is my uniform."

"Then perhaps you should abdicate your position," there was a threat in his tone that even Jim did not miss the threat that dripped from his words like venom. The human felt his fists clenching of their own accord.

"I would love to go into space," Emalynn's words covered Aethyr's reply, if she replied, but he saw her gloved hands gripped her spoon as if it were Hanyl's neck and she wished to snap it in half. "It seems so romantic."

"Have you travelled, your highness?" he inquired politely. He knew that Aethyr would not wish for him to defend her, so he stilled his raging mind, focusing on the beautiful woman in front of him with a crooked grin. Even if he had no true interest in her he could still flirt. And flirt he would.

….

Spock Prime looked out at the station behind him, the explosion brilliant against the emptiness of space. He hoped he could reach Hetyr II in time, going through the authorisation codes Aethyr had given him in his mind. He hoped he was not too late. For he could not witness the destruction of another mighty civilisation.

….

She bowed her head to the Emperor, trying not to watch the way that Emalynn clung to Jim's arm, smiling up at him with such joy. Or the grin he gave back to her.

"Your Majesty," she said softly, her helmet muffling her voice slightly. Gone was the delicate mask she had worn to breakfast, and she wished nothing more than to break every bone in the Prince's fragile body. The man did not deserve his title.

"Aethyr, dearest, will you give Captain Kirk a tour of our illustrious city?" the Emperor's voice was sickeningly sweet, and she did not miss the tightening of the Queen's eyes, nor the look she directed at her son.

"Father, perhaps another should accompany the captain," the Prince's voice was tight and Aethyr curbed the snarl that rose within her. Everything about him repelled her. "It is not proper that they should be along together."

In that moment she was glad for the coverage of the helmet, for none could see the slight blush that suffused her cheeks as the memory of Jim's lips on her own filled her mind. Her body, suddenly unnaturally warm, itched to be near him once more. Just once. Hanyl was right to worry.

"Nonsense, you should have faith in your future wife," the Emperor laughed it off.

"You should not trust so easily, father," she saw the glare he shot at Jim, but seeing that she did not miss the swift kiss that Emalynn pressed to the captains cheek or the grin he flashed her in return.

Dread stole throughout her body, cold and unforgiving. She'd known from the beginning he could never been hers.

….

"What is it Spock?" she could see the tension in him, though he kept it well hidden. The silks felt lovely against her naked skin, dark mocha against pale silver. His pale chest rose and fell with his deep breaths as the early morning sun flittered through the windows that were protected by a force-field.

She leant on her hand, watching him as he looked up at the canopy that sheltered them.

"I do not understand what is going on, Nyota."

She blinked, her other hand running over the bare chest before her. A soft smile graced her features. "Jim will be ok." He did not say it, but she knew he worried for their captain and friend. For three days had passed and there had been no talk of negotiations, only romantic walks with their princess.

Aethyr had visited her and Spock on one of those days, in her Guard uniform which made her look like a completely different person. She'd seemed weary, tired beyond her years and wished to speak of nothing to do with Hetyr.

They'd spent the day playing chess and talking, but Uhura had wanted nothing more than to question the Hetyran. But the woman had merely shaken her head and informed her of the ball that was to be held in their honour.

"What do you make of the ball?" she asked her lover, pushing back his immaculately neat hair. None of the citizens they'd seen seemed bothered by the war, drifting around aimlessly.

"We have done nothing of assistance," he replied, detached. He was doubting himself, she knew, doubting his decision to trust Aethyr. "It is not logical that they would throw a ball."

He could have been remembered the way that Aethyr had been on edge when she'd told them about the ball. "None of this makes sense," she sighed. "Who on Hetyr II would be communicating with Sector 31? We need to question Agent Wering."

She felt more than heard Spock's sigh. Something he'd let none other but her hear. "We cannot rely upon him to tell the truth."

….

Jim's eyes widened as they glided over the city, weaving between the buildings that shone in the midday sun. A city of silver towers.

But it was not the city that held his rapt attention. It was the beautifully sleek craft they were in, a _fighter_ Aethyr had called it. It was streamlined, seemingly made out of a single sheet of metal, curved at the top and wide enough to sit two people abreast. With no obvious steering control, there was a single panel before Aethyr, various lights flashing, her fingers on the pad. There was no obvious movement that she made before the fighter took a sharp turn, spiralling through the air or dipping close to a building.

More than once he'd seen a face through one of the force-field windows, staring at his bare face.

He glanced at Aethyr, at the soft smile upon her face. Upon entering the craft she'd taken her seat smoothly, discarding her helmet immediately. The small discs placed on her temples flashed slightly.

He'd spent no time alone with her since they'd landed on Hetyr II and he found he'd missed her company.

"Sparky, can I have a go?" he couldn't help but ask, mesmerised by her delighted smile and the way the sunlight shone through her hair. God he wished he weren't such a sucker for pretty faces.

She laughed. "You wish," she smirked and he felt as if a part of his heart melted. "You couldn't anyway." She tapped her temple slightly with a single black-gloved finger, where the disc flashed slightly. "I control the fighter through these. So unless you suddenly develop a Hetyran brain, it will not respond to your brain signals." She laughed once more and the fighter dived, rushing towards the ground before pulling up suddenly. "Only hackers can control ships without the discs."

Jim grinned; she seemed so carefree, so joyous. It was a welcome contrast to how she'd been at breakfast. Once more his gaze swept the city before them, untouched and ethereal. He'd expected a war-torn city, with crumbling towers. Not a stunning metropolis. "What is a hacker?"

Aethyr's silver eyes regarded him thoughtfully, and he could see her weighing everything in her mind. It seemed as if flying was second nature to her, for she barely glanced out the window before them, yet all the while keeping the course smooth. "Hackers are feared above all else; for they have the ability to control technology with nothing more than their mind. A hacker would not need the discs to fly a fighter; they would need no passwords to get into anything. No door could hold them." She turned back to the scene before them, as if she suddenly needed to concentrate. "It is why the Unmasked One is so dangerous; he is the last known hacker of Hetyr."

Jim frowned, for it was the first he'd heard of the Unmasked One since landing, despite his efforts to complete his mission. It was as if the Emperor did not truly care for finding the fugitive he requested help from Starfleet to find. "So what prevents him from waltzing into the city?"

"The force fields," she told him, the fighter skirting around the lips of a crystal clear fountain. "The controls to them are on the inside. They cannot be breached."

"When will I be able to speak with the Emperor about the rebellion?" he watched her carefully, noting how her lips tightened, her expression otherwise unreadable. "Did you exaggerate the war? For none within the city seem to care."

He saw rage flash through those silver orbs and the fighter suddenly dipped, the panel flaring to light. Then they were moving faster than he thought possible, his heart in his stomach as he gripped the armrests. Buildings were mere flashes as they soared past, missing the walls by inches.

"Authorisation code: 968," her voice was clipped, speaking to nothing, her fingers darting over the panel, lights flashing in their wake.

The lips of the city loomed. And then he saw it, with wide eyes. The force field, shimmering a soft blue in the midday sun, curving upwards into the sky, encasing the city.

They were going too fast. His heart was pounding in his chest. There was no way a door could open in time.

"Approaching city limits; turn back," the robotic voice of the fighter said in its monotone, lights flashing within the small craft.

His gaze slid to Aethyr, whose brows were furrowed in concentration, her fingers flying. "Authorisation code: 968," she repeated through gritted teeth.

The shield loomed before them; they would not stop in time. He gripped the seat tighter. She would get them through it. She would not needlessly risk their lives.

"Code accepted."

Then they were through, the shield like water, clinging to the fighter as they passed through it. He stared at the rolling clouds before them, beautiful–

"Fuck!" he couldn't stop it from passing through his lips as the ship dropped into a death roll, spiralling downwards toward the ground, through the clouds at an alarming speed.

The ground rushed towards them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9:**

"Don't fret, _Captain_, you weren't going to die," she was laughing at him, he knew. They were hovering, barely a foot from the ground, completely unscathed.

He would not admit he'd been frightened. Instead he laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Is there any reason you brought me out here Aethyr? Away from everyone else?" He grinned, a gentle hand on her cheek, pleased to see the silver blush that spread over her cheeks. He dipped his head lower to hers, and watched as her eyes fluttered closed.

And froze, staring out the window.

"Aethyr?" he breathed, dropping his hand like nothing had occurred. "What happened here?"

The land was barren, with not a plant in sight. There was a creeping mist that clung to everything with its icy touch, no sunlight shone through the cover of the clouds, there was an eerie stillness. Wreckages of fighters littered the ground, blackened and bleak, the glass of the windows shattered, the remains of bodies visible through the metal.

He felt the bile rise in his throat.

In the distance were the crumbling remains of a township.

Aethyr's eyes opened and she said not a word, instead guiding the fighter towards the remains.

And then he saw the bodies.

Thousands upon thousands of bodies; civilian clothing torn, decaying. Perhaps the mist kept them preserved, but he could thousands of silver eyes staring up at him in shock and pain as they passed over.

"Behold the military genius of Prince Hanyl," she whispered, as if her voice would disturb the bodies. Her face was ashen, but not surprised. And he wondered how much death she had seen. Perhaps it explained the haunted look he'd sometimes glimpsed in those lovely orbs.

He didn't notice at first when she began to slow down, but he noticed when the remains of the town became clearer. And it became even more obvious that the town had not fallen into ruin naturally – the silver buildings were dulled, with large gaping holes, blackened about the edges.

The town had been attacked.

And then they were stopping, the window opening above them, the cold air rushing over him in a rush. It clung to him, as if trying to suck the life from him. Deathly silence engulfed them as Aethyr got out, her boots silent on the blackened ground.

Mist drifted through empty buildings, moving like a silent killer, hiding everything from their view. There was nothing to be heard, nothing both Aethyr's soft breathing as she moved forward, disappearing into the mists. There was no sun to shine on the dulled surfaces of the buildings they wound through.

She seemed out of place, her pristine white uniform, the shiny metal bracers, her glittering blue knives strapped to her belt. He glanced down. A child's toy, singed and blackened, covered with ash, looking up at him with silver button eyes.

"A hacker, to a civilisation built on technology, is a dangerous thing," her voice was slightly disembodied, came from his left, through a door that had been blasted out of the wall, the wires visible to the naked eye.

"What happened here?" he breathed, watching as she traced what could have been the top of a table once, or a bench. Glass was shattered over the ground, cracking beneath her feet, dust flying around her, mist clinging to her. Her expression broke his heart. Her eyes were closed, her soft lips trembling. Everything about her spoke of pain. The slight hunch of her shoulders, the shaking of her fingers.

"This was my home," her voice was a whisper, as soft as a breath. She did not turn to look at him as she spoke; she stared out what would have been a window once. Nothing remained in the small house; he supposed it had been stripped by thieves. It was as if she had forgotten he was there. But she did not cry. "It was the fair, that day. My first. Mother had dressed me in my finest gown, the prettiest shade of periwinkle," her voice was strangely vacant, like a recording. "I was so excited. But then they came, swarming through the town like a plague, killing everyone in sight."

She stopped speaking, but he could only imagine what had happened next. A small child, lost and afraid, separated from her parents, hiding in a corner, watching as people fell before her.

"You asked me once what it was I do for the Emperor," she said softly, her penetrating gaze meeting his. "I am his right hand, I run his Empire for him. He cares little for the war – it does not bother him for he is safe within his floating city. But acts of war – any attack – is not decided by me. It is Prince Hanyl who is in charge of the Guard. And innocent villages, like this, are razed. So when Spock told me to contact you, I had to go straight to the Emperor to bring outsiders in, rather than go to the Prince."

Jim frowned, for he did not know where her story was going, unlike Spock undoubtedly could, he did not follow her logic.

"But when I mentioned your name he had other plans. He wished for me to bring you to him for another purpose. To wed his daughter, Princess Emalynn," something akin to pain flashed through her eyes, but she did not pause in her story. "I agreed to it; for I knew I could bring you here. And Starfleet's imperative is peace, is it not? Once here you would be obliged to aid the war-effort."

She had manipulated him. And in that moment he could see her plan in perfect detail – how perfectly it had worked. All she had to do was get onto the ship; easily done by falling into his arms with a doctor present. Once on the ship Starfleet would get its mission from Hetyr II, asking for assistance in finding the fugitive. Then she would reveal that the fugitive never left Hetyr II, so they would have to travel there to complete the mission from Command. And once on Hetyr II he would undoubtedly fall for the gorgeous princess, for of course he was known for his promiscuous nature.

He had walked into the trap like a trusting puppy on a leash.

Betrayal.

Anger.

Loathing.

The emotions flashed through him faster than light. She'd even manipulated him by taking him to her old home.

"Jim, listen to me," her voice was urgent, melodious, and he wanted nothing more than to block it out. But the imploring tone, so desperate made him turn to her. "Nothing is what it seems here. Nothing is safe."

He was dimly aware of a rumbling in the distance, the sound of a starship in the atmosphere. He frowned at the woman who he had almost given his heart to, shaking his head. "I can't trust a word you say, _General_."

He watched as her eyes hardened. "No, you can't," her voice was as cold as steel. "But nor can you trust anyone else's."

He gazed at her, his heart thudding in his chest. Perhaps he should have listened to Agent Wering when he had said she was dangerous. Perhaps it was she who had contacted him; perhaps she was in league with him all along. There were too many possibilities swirling through his mind. But she had betrayed him. She had. No wonder the Emperor let her run their fucked up race.

"I know you hate me right now Jim," she said, softly. But she did not approach him, she stood as still as a statue, the mist swirling about her feet. "But I never – "

She cut herself off, spinning, her eyes wide. Another act.

"Jim, get to the ship_, now_," her voice was a hiss as she walked backwards, keeping her eyes on the door which was now behind her where nothing but darkness stirred.

Then he heard the low growl, wild and feral. Crunch. Heavy feet upon the shattered glass. Another growl.

He watched as a shield appeared from one of her bracers, shimmering blue like the force field that surrounded the city. His curiosity was sated at least, the bracers like the fighters, were controlled by thought. Then her shimmering blue knife was in her other hand, the blade dancing like blue fire. "Run, now!"

She pushed him through the door and then he was running, his phaser in his hand and he heard the crash behind them, an unearthly roar that seemed to shake the very foundations.

"Fuck!" he heard her utter, as she kept speed with him easily. She was pressing the disc at her temple. "Emergency code: 764. Set to autopilot."

He could see the fighter before them, as it lifted off the ground, the blue lights flashing along its side. The mist parted before them. Not much farther to go. He could hear the creature chasing them, long heavy bounds.

And then it was upon them, silver eyes flashing wildly, saliva dripping from its open jaw. In the reflection of the fighters surface he could see it, so close. And Aethyr was behind him and he saw her turn.

"Jim, get back to the city!" she shouted to him as the creature halted before her, pacing as its eyes watched her. It was the shape of a panther, sleek and muscular. Though it was the size of a horse, perhaps larger, its claws could easily tear her in two. But she did not balk.

And he could not leave her.

But then she was moving, as if dancing, darting behind it to slash a leg, flipping out of the way when it batted a paw at her. Then he remembered her bio: enhanced speed, enhanced reflexes.

Then she leapt upon its back, her knives biting deep into its neck. A ragged growl filled the air as the creature bucked, trying to dislodge its attacker.

She slid off it, rolling across the ash covered ground and Jim watched, his phaser on his hand, waiting for a clean shot. She rolled into an easy crouch, her shield disappearing and another dagger appearing in her other hand. Then Aethyr went at it in a run, faster than even Spock, leaping through the air and slashing through its foreleg.

A moment too late he saw its other paw swing.

"Aethyr!" he couldn't stop the cry that tore from his throat as he saw her small body crack against one of the buildings, landing heavily. And then he was running to her side.

Her breath left her and her face twisted in pain as her side burned, feeling her ribs crack under the pressure. She hissed: her vision blurring. Then she saw the phaser fire, heard Jim's tortured cry. Thick black blood splattered over the ground, staining it, the places where it stuck smoked slightly, the scathing smell of burning filled the air. And then she saw his face, eyes wide with worry. And then his body was cradled her own as white hot agony shot through her.

"It'll be alright," his voice was a comforting rumble against her.

_You can't promise that. _And then she knew no more.

….

Agent Wering snarled. The bitch had knocked him out, again! He paced his chambers, aboard the Enterprise. The vials had been destroyed; his mission was crumbling in pieces around him. They'd wanted something that could wipe out an entire race; he'd been charged with delivering. And then that white-haired bitch had appeared, ruining everything!

"You will get the job done," the feminine voice told him over the comm. "I want them dead."

"I'll finish this!" he snapped, ending the link. He would deliver them the means to wipe out their own race and he would have his own revenge on Aethyr Startoucher.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10:**

Bones shook his head, watching as once more Jim made his way to Aethyr's chambers. He'd done nothing but worry since he'd carried her inside, blood streaming from her limp body. The doctor had never seen such an expression as the one he'd seen on his friends face in that moment. Utterly retched, dejected and torn – as if his very heart had been torn from his chest and fed to ravens to pick at.

He'd fallen; heavy and fast and he'd not even realised.

He had to give it to the Hetyran woman; she was good. In a broken whisper Jim had told him everything. But still he'd not wanted Aethyr to die. She was merely trying to save her people from war, even Bones could not hate her. And he could not hate a woman that Jim was so obviously in love with – even if he did not know it himself.

Spock and Uhura entered the room in the next moment; their bright Starfleet uniforms a stark contrast to the dull silvers of the meeting room.

"What do we do?" it was Uhura who spoke first, her dark eyes nervous, darting from place to place as if any moment she expected something to attack.

"Damned if I know," Bones growled, glaring at her. She did not pale, or shy away. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he did not mind her company; she was not lily-livered like most females. "This place is a hell-hole of plots and treason."

"I must concur with the doctor," Spock said, to the surprise of both humans. "It seems there is far more afoot here than first believed. Not only are their rebels, but there are power ploys within the palace as well."

"Well that's all very well," said doctor snapped, hiding his surprise and concern behind his cantankerous exterior. "But what do we do? Agent Wering has disappeared to who knows where, our Captain can't think because the woman he loves lays at deaths door, and any minute the rebels could blow up this entire place."

"That would be highly illogical of them to do so."

"I was exaggerating."

"Ah, a hyperbole, I understand," Spock tilting his head to the side in that infuriating manner. From the corner of his eye Bones could see Uhura smothering a laugh behind her hand.

"If only we were able to contact Command," Uhura gnawed her lip lightly.

Bones' eyes widened in shock as a thought occurred to him. It was as if a light had been switched on inside his mind, a piece of the puzzle coming together. The Hetyran's had known they would not be able to contact Starfleet Command; they were sitting ducks. He watched as Uhura realised the same thing, then her face paled, her mouth opening slightly.

"Aethyr told me something, perhaps she didn't mean to," the communications officer began. "That everything was going to change at the Ball. You don't think that the Emperor is going to force Jim to marry the Princess is he?"

….

Her eyelids fluttered open, greeted with nothing but darkness and the flickering lights of the screen by her side. There was no pain, there was no mark. Nothing to show where the leryt had sliced through her stomach.

She pressed a hand to her head, sighing, nestled between soft pillows and lying beneath silken sheets. Her rooms were silent, as they always were. And then she was alerted to the breathing of another in the room. Her body tensed, her eyes darting around the room. Searching for a weapon, any weapon. And then her eyes rested on Jim, asleep in the chair by her side.

A soft smile.

He had not changed his clothes and his hair fell messily over his forehead. She sat up slowly. And winced slightly. So much for no pain.

But she'd not expected to live. When she'd heard the leryt breathing she'd thought she would die; die protecting Jim. But she had not, and he had returned her to her home rather than leaving her to die. Then she frowned, no that was not all. He had saved her.

"You're awake," his voice was tired, but it sent shivers straight through her body.

"Jim, I'm sorry, for everything," she whispered, fervently hoping he'd forgive her. She clutched the blanket around her body; acutely aware she had nothing on beneath it. "But I needed you. I needed your help. I'm sorry-"

His lips were against hers, hot and insistent, heat flashing through her body like lightning across the desert sky. Her skin burned where he touched her, his thighs pressing against hers as she fell back against her bed.

"Aethyr," his voice was a caress as his lips trailed across her neck and collarbone. Her slim frame trembled in his arms, desire washing through her, leaving nothing else.

She needed him.

Like she'd needed no other. She felt her hands shaking as he gripped his hair, pulling him closer. She shouldn't. He was Emalynn's.

"Jim."

His hand slid off her arm to rest on her slender waist, drawing her upwards to sit on the bed. Fire raced along her veins and her pulse beat erratically as he drew closer. The kiss burned into her mind, and her heart – that one kiss, raw with need, desire and so much more told her everything that words could not. And that one kiss was enough to undo her. She melted into his embrace, her hands entwining around the back of his neck. As her soft lips ghosted over his, over his cheeks and eyes, he knew.

_I never want to lose you, _she said with her hands and lips as she pushed him back on the bed. Her soft skin on his bare chest erased any thoughts from his mind as he gazed down at her, illuminated by the soft moonlight. Whatever happened, they would always have each other.

"Jim," Aethyr whispered, pulling back for a moment. She needed him to understand, needed to get it out before her mind was too clouded. But she could not help kissing him again, her hands on his strong chest. "I have to tell you something…"

"I don't care," his hands were hot, insistent on her sides, one her thighs, on her breasts. Shudders ran through her. There was none of the careful restraint of Hetyran males, no holding back. His lips on her neck, on her chest. It was as is molten metal was pulsing through her veins, her skin alight where he touched.

Her mind was blurring, nothing but sensations, nothing but the feel of _Jim_. Did he not care that she'd lied and manipulated him? Her back arched as she gasped, Jim's hand brushing against her breast as she fought to grasp onto her sanity. There were no thoughts of Hanyl in her mind. "What of Emalynn?" she gasped out when his hand brushed over her hip, drawing her even closer to him.

"What of her?" his voice was a dangerous growl, but it was all she needed to kiss him fervently once more. His fingers ghosted over her shoulder blades, over her spine. Tracing her ryuka, the swirls that spread over the entire left side of her body, sending tingles along her nerves. He pressed warm kisses across her shoulders as he moved his hands to hold her arms gently. His face was all she saw when her eyelids fluttered closed; his breath was all she could feel on her skin.

….

Hanyl snarled, his dark silver eyes flashing dangerously as he watched his fiancé with the human. Had she been more aware she would have noticed the security camera he had placed in her chambers whilst she had been healing. For a day she had slept, with the healers labouring over her. The whole time the _human _had not left her side, watching with anxious eyes even when Emalynn had not been there.

He could almost hear the moans that came from her delicious rose-coloured lips. Lips that any true Hetyran woman would have painted silver. But no not her.

The man, the human, had seen her face. Whilst he – her fiancé – had not. His knuckles gripped tighter on the chair.

The complete looks of adoration in their eyes sickened him. Looks that he was sure neither noticed. He snarled once more. He had all the evidence he needed to condemn her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dedicated to SerenityAngels, my lovely first follower **** This chapter is a bit serious…Review people **

**Chapter 11:**

"You didn't think you'd get away with it did you, _General _Aethyr?" his laughter sent shivers down her spine, but she did not throw herself against the bars. "All your deceptions. Can you feel it?" she could see his eyes, taunting her in the darkness, with nothing but the faint blue lights to illuminate them. He was wiser than stepping through the doors, though all it took would be the press of a single button. "Can you feel it? Your web of lies tangling around you?"

She sat up, slowly, her bare feet coming into contact with the cold metal floor. Perhaps it was just as well that she'd gotten no modifications; for by now they would have torn the prosthetic limbs from her body.

"And now you're the fly, caught in the middle." He laughed again; cruel and mocking.

She could feel his heart beat in the air. And never before had she wanted to kill someone so much.

"You have no hope of escaping. You know that better than any."

She did not give him the satisfaction of replying. Of course she knew; for she had helped design the cells which she was currently held in. Designed for maximum threat prisoners; designs she had written up when she was thirteen. They were mere holding cells until those prisoners were executed.

She heard his footsteps fading away, and then they stopped. "Don't count on your little human rescuing you," Hanyl's voice drifted to her. "He should be getting all pretty for his engagement party as we speak. Oh and I have someone here you claims an acquaintance with you." He laughed once more; an off-key maniacal sound.

She drifted her hands over the smooth metallic walls. Five paces from wall to wall – perfectly square. No windows. One door – electronic; authorisation code required.

"Good day, Miss Startoucher," she felt no dread at Agent Wering's voice. "How lovely to see you once more."

She turned her gaze to him; to his dark penetrating eyes that caressed her form through the bars.

"I've been told about your little mission," he said softly, as he dragged a chair to sit before her cell. She paced, not even glancing at him, though she could imagine he stood out of arms reach. Cursing herself, she paced. She'd underestimated them. "A bit counter-productive don't you think? Having sex with the man who was meant to wed your princess." Her ears pricked at that, though she gave no inclination. She prayed he was safe. _Lords Jim, I'm sorry._ "It explains why you know so much about everything. About all the crew. Did you tell James that? That you researched him and his crew?" _I tried to. _"I've been researching you, Miss Startoucher." She felt him move closer; she could hear his slow heartbeat increase as he leant forward in his chair. "Is that even your name? For it seems that since before your registering in programming, you didn't exist. Yet you had all the proper background. Coincidence after coincidence saw you rise through the ranks to become the Hand of the Emperor. You advised him against seeling Nero weapons, did you not?" She could almost hear him going through a mental list, trying to press her buttons. How had he gained access to her files? She stopped, sitting on the single bed opposite the bars. She rested her chin in her hands, gazing at him. It would unnerve him, she knew. Though he worked for the Federation the thought of aliens still unnerved him. Though to his credit he did not blink. "A wise move; though reading this alerted me to something. It meant you had access to Federation files. And I began wondering how." She could hear his heartbeat accelerating. In excitement. There was no other sound, except for the soft beeping of the single door at the end of the corridor. "How an unassuming little girl, the sole survivor of a massacre, had become so great. It seemed far too…easy for you." 

She raised a brow, but still did not speak. She watched as the light behind him flashed rhythmically, like a beating heart of blue light. Perhaps he would try and make her scream; for there was no one to hear.

"And then there was your meeting with the future Spock," he laughed, openly mocking her. She did not let the shock show; she kept her face a mask of eerie calm. "He was easy to capture."

….

Emalynn smiled softly at the captain before her, grinning in such a way that turned her body to liquid. She'd never wanted a man more in her life. She wanted to tear away that delicate silk and reveal the hard chest beneath that she'd had a glimpse of that day when he'd stretched; his shirt riding up to show the toned muscle beneath. The slightly golden skin that was so different to any other man she'd seen.

"Your Highness," he said, in that smooth as silk voice. She shouldn't have been surprised really – for Aethyr had told that the man was not exactly known for his monogamy. But she'd been charmed, for she had long thought him handsome and dashing. She never thought she'd experience the butterflies in her stomach. With a shy smile she accepted the arm he presented to her.

Though even as he led her into the hall she could not help wonder where Aethyr was.

…..


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright guys, things start to get serious in this chappie **

**Chapter 12:**

He saw her, a shimmer of white hair and molten silver eyes, her face hidden behind the extravagant mask. But he knew it was her.

A man was whispering in her ear, so close that their bodies were almost touching – he could not see his face, but he knew it was not a Hetyran he had seen before. His starlight hair was cropped short, close to his skull in a military way, his eyes almost the same hew as Aethyr's own.

She was not pulling away from him, she seemed distinctly at ease, though her eyes darted from place to place. Then she was nodding, those beautiful silver-painted lips grim. She seemed less put together than normal; yet determination shone in those eyes.

A lover perhaps?

With a grin he followed her through the archway, her footsteps light though he didn't doubt that she wore her military boots beneath. And perhaps a few knives strapped to the insides of her thighs. A smirk appeared at the thought of finding out whether it was so.

He caught her slim fingers, pushing her up against the wall, his lips claiming hers. Fire shot through him and it was as if she were a drug, his hand finding her waist so he could pull her against him. The white silk was like water beneath his fingertips.

Her lips, oh so soft and pliant, beneath his.

Then he pulled back and pushed a stray hair behind one of her upswept ears, sending tingles down her spine. His forehead rested at the apex of the oryn, his eyes looking into hers, his breathing ragged. "Let me guess, you need me?" she whispered, teasingly, with a wicked grin that should've had him kissing her all over again. Lords she wanted him to. But she watched as his eyes turned from mischief to seriousness.

"It wasn't like that with you, Sparky," he said softly, his thumbs tracing circles on her cheeks. "Well maybe to start with but–"

The alarm blared through the night, piercing the still night air like a harpy's shriek. She pulled away, her body ready in that instant for an attack. Her eyes darted to the moons overhead. Not now.

"Jim get your crew together now," she said, harsher than she'd intended, but she watched as he snapped to attention, going into captain mode. "The rebels are attacking the palace."

….

"Stop right there!" the voice was one she recognised, though she did not know the woman before her. But she was familiar with the glittering malice in those silver eyes. The woman wore no mask, though her body was framed by the pale blue silks of nobility, the lattice-work intricate around her hips and brow. And her lovely starlight hair, pulsating blue as the light flashed above them.

"Stirling?" Jim's voice was incredulous.

And Aethyr could only stare. Perhaps Jim recognised her by the curve of her neck, or the swell of her breast. But Aethyr didn't really care; her eyes were narrowed at the phaser trained directly between her eyes.

So it seemed the pretty nurse had some secrets. "Let me guess, you work of Hanyl?" Aethyr raised a single brow.

"Now listen to me, you traitorous bitch, you will not move or I will blow your brains across the wall." Her voice pitched low and deadly, was serious. The lovely nurse was gone. Replaced by a stone cold soldier. "How did you get out of prison?"

"How did you know I was in there?" she countered. Hanyl would not have made it well known that his fiancé had been taken into custody. She felt Jim's shock. Perhaps she would get a chance to explain later.

Stirling's eyes narrowed, her finger tightening on the trigger. "Answer the question."

….

Terror flitted across Uhura's face, flashing through her eyes like lightning as they filed into the room – slender bodies encased in pure black, their guns held in expert hands. The Emperor was nowhere to be seen; he had been hurried from the building the moment they 'breach' had occurred. Her heart pounded in her chest; her eyes locking with dark brown.

She knew Spock was thinking of Jim.

He always seemed to be at the centre of trouble.

"What do you want with us?" It was a noble who spoke, his silver eyes terrified. _Slap_. The sharp stinging sound left a ringing in Uhura's ears, the sharp stinging of metal gauntlets striking the soft flesh of a female's cheek. She knew Spock would be able to hear the droplets of silver blood that fell to the ground; even beyond the Hetyran's startled cry of pain and fear.

In the next instant she was dragged to her feet, harsh fingers biting into the nape of her neck, and forced against a tree. Aethyr's Lieutenant, Renylann, was beside her, silver hair tousled, her fists clenched. Her pupils were mere pinpricks in the stormy irises, her teeth bared.

"Where is the Emperor and his Hand?" it was the leader who spoke, the tallest of them all, his visor obscuring his face.

"They went through there," a noble stuttered, pointing to the concealed door by the thrones.

"You and you, come with us," the leader pointed.

And with dread, Uhura saw that the gloved hand was pointed at her.

….

Emalynn cowered against the wall, her slender body shivering under the gaze of Aethyr's men, immobile in their pristine white uniforms. She looked across the her brother who was tight lipped, his knuckles white.

"What is it?" her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"Aethyr has something to do with this," his voice was a feral snarl. And she saw the glint in his eyes. a glint she had seen in prisoners before their ramblings started; before their minds fled them. "Her and that Starfleet Captain."

She had lost Jim at the beginning of the party; he had disappeared amongst his crew. But she did not begrudge him that; for she had been monopolising his time. Even whilst the sirens blared outside the safe room, her mind drifted to the handsome man who she had met.

She had lifted her eyes for only a second, feeling eyes upon her. His smooth skin was as pale as cream and looked just as heavenly, setting off he stark-white hair that was cropped short, barely brushing the tips of his upswept ears. His face was handsome, perhaps even more handsome that James's.

He had bowed over her hand, brushing it against her lips. Then he had grinned and in that moment her heart had melted. "A moment of your time is all I ask for. That is all the time I need to admire your beauty and have your image and soul imprinted in my mind, as well as my heart".

"Wipe that pathetic smile off your face; your precious captain will not be coming to rescue you," her brother's voice was cold and she could feel their father's eyes on them, watching them curiously. She did not bother to correct him on where her thoughts had been. An unknown male would not suit him for her choice of husband. "He will be too busy trying to rescue his lover."

….

Aethyr barely glanced at the body as she stepped over it. But Jim could not help but stare. He had seen death before; but never had he see the efficiency in which Aethyr had killed.

Almost robotic, though he knew she was not.

But the eyes of the pretty nurse he had once perused looked up at him from the remains of what had been such a pretty face. Her forehead was caved inwards, dripping with blood and tinged around the gaping wound. At point-blank range the nurse – the soldier – had no hope.

He followed Aethyr, her steps determined and purposeful. Her hand gripping the gun tightly.

"Where are you going?"

"I must find the Emperor."

….

Agent Wering groaned as the lights flashed around him, the dark closing in. He could barely think through the pain, seeing nothing but blurred shapes and colours. He could see the red, red blood that stained his hands. He could see the foreign object that protruded from his body.

Silver eyes flashed through his mind and another groan escaped his lips.

He had failed.

Once again he had failed.

And he knew it was the last time he would do so. He could feel life slipping from him; at an ever increasing speed, his blood a pool about him.

He last thing that went through his mind was the Queen of Hetyr's face. She would be disappointed. But then, strangely, he found that he did not care as much. Let them all kill each other with their different factions and wars; let them all die.

And then he slipped into darkness with none to witness but the flashing lights around him and the shattered bars of the prison cell.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry sorry sorry it's taken so long…my muse scaped me for this story but she is back I hope…I think I'm drawing this to a close sooner than expected because I really don't know if people are enjoying this…so please please please review! : )**

**Chapter 13:**

Emalynn blinked as the door slid open. It was not possible; like the shields that protected their city the door of the saferoom opened only from the inside.

She sagged with relief when she saw it was Aethyr; the woman's expression was grim. Jim was behind her, his eyes assessing the room in a single gaze._ This_ was the captain she'd heard so much about, the captain who had saved them all from the Romulans that her father was going to sell weapons to.

"Aethyr?"

The fear in her father's voice caused her gaze to shoot up. Aethyr's gun, which had been used so many times to protect him, was pressing into his temple.

….

Uhura could not help shudder as they passed the bodies in the hall; though they all still breathed. Whoever had left the path of destruction in their wake was skilled. She turned, eyes widening in shock as the Guards rounded the corner, their guns ablaze, their uniforms glowing in the blaring lights that flashed around them.

….

Aethyr knelt on the blood-soaked ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her once bright eyes turned dull, shocked. Her whole body was covered with cuts and deep incisions; blood had trickled down from her minor injuries, forming small silver rivers of her dirt-smudged skin. At only eight years old she'd never seen anything like it.

Another explosion; her lungs struggling to find sustenance in the tainted air as another building fell. _Where were they?_

She forced herself to stand and turned her head slightly, pain lancing through her brain. Legs trembling and hands shaking she cast her eyes to where a new tendril of smoke was rising. Dark and foreboding.

Bodies littered the ground, Guards and civilians alike. The air crackled with energy; blue lightning streaking through the sky as fighters fired upon their meagre defences. She stumbled slightly, her legs weak, her mind a hazy blur.

Then her wide eyes caught sight of a familiar drew; lovely periwinkle blue torn and dirtied, stained silver. Her breathing hitched.

"MOTHER!" it tore from her throat, forgetting the danger around them. Pain and fear suffocated her as she ran as fast as her small feet could carry her.

The woman was barely breathing. Aethyr howled, it seemed impossible that her small frame could utter such an animalistic sound. All pain forgotten she fell by the limp woman, desperately seeking a pulse, any sign of life without knowing what to do. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when the sooty lashes flutters. But her small face turned to a mask of horror when she saw the gaping hole in her mother's chest. "Mother!" her cries were heart-wrenching – perhaps if a Guard were to see the eight year old sobbing by her mother they would have taken pity. But there was no one to witness the glittering tears that streamed down her cheeks. None but the unseeing eyes of the dead.

Her mother coughed, silver trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"Aethyr, dear," her mother's voice was the softest whisper, a trembling hand tried to lift itself to touch her daughters face. "It's my time."

"No, please no," she hugged her, holding her smaller body over her mother's wounded one. As if she could protect her. Her eyes were wide; frightened.

"Tell me what's happening," her mother said softly.

"I don't know. The soldier's in white are killing everyone."

"You can't let them find you, my sweet," her mother's hand trembled as she stroked her cheek lightly, brushing one of the short white strands behind her ear. "Find your brother and flee."

She could do nothing but cry. The sky burst open with a clap of thunder as the rain poured down around them, washing the blood away. Lightning flashed. Another explosion rocked the land. Everything was suspended on a spiders thread, growing more transparent by the second.

….

He had seen her for the first time when she was no more than twelve years old. A brilliant young programmer who had graduated top of her class. Ambitious, strong-willed. She reminded him of how his brother had been. Long before he and his wife, Queen Gwenvr, had concealed the poison that took his life in a bottle of Romulan ale.

She had approached him as bravely as any warrior, with a straight back and unwavering.

"Watch out for that one," Gwenvr had whispered in his ear. But he'd brushed it off, as if she were merely a fly to be swatted away. He paid no heed to the words; for a see was little more than a decorative flower used to make heirs for him. Heirs which were ever important because of the growing support for the rebels and the Unmasked One.

Her small face had been covered by a simple mask that matched her silky white hair. She reminded him of one he had met long ago.

She'd entered her training, with a vigour he'd seen in very few.

The next time she was brought to his attention was when she was fifteen. No longer just a programmer. She had completely advanced combat training. Top of her class. To say he was impressed would have been an understatement.

At sixteen she had been given the rank of Airman and served as part of the convoy. He had been present for it had been a peace meeting that they were to attend, with the intent of negotiating terms of trade with the Romulans. Yet they had been attacked when they had exited the Renyr Field.

It had been Aethyr's bravery and nothing else that had kept him alive. For she had taken the shot that was meant for him, a phaser shot directly to the chest. The surgeons had told him later that it was her enhanced regeneration that had saved her; a skill that even the Emperor himself did not possess.

So there was no doubt in his mind that she should be promoted for acts of bravery – for there was no way she could have known that she would live.

Her leadership abilities and vast intellect were made clear when she rose quickly through the ranks. Her design of the new cells had been brilliant – even though it had only been an exercise, he had decided to use it.

And then at twenty two Lieutenant Aethyr Startoucher had been given command of Unit Two – she was to lead them as the second wave against the rebels. She had sensed something was wrong, the slightest change in the sensors in her fighter and she had ordered her troops to the ground, deigning to enter the city through the sewers rather than fly in. She had saved Unit Two.

For by going into the sewers they had avoided that blast which obliterated Unit One, led by the General. The rebels had somehow known they were coming and had evacuated the city, leaving only one who sets off the blasts that killed a quarter of the Guard.

Aethyr had been relentless in her search for the one responsible – a single male whom she had killed.

As the highest ranking officer after the genocide she had been given the rank of General. A fact he was glad of when the following year the Romulan named Nero had approached him, asking to purchase weapons.

Given the amount they had offered, he would have said yes.

But she had urged him not to.

But the possibility that he might have enraged the rebels, whose attacks grew more fervent after that. Spy upon spy had been caught, all under the ever watchful eye of Aethyr. He left it to her to see it through; he did not need to worry. And so he appointed her as his Hand.

And yet never once, in all his years of knowing her and of watching her grow, had he suspected. He should have known who she was.

….

Uhura's breath came in short pants, propped up against the wall in the gardens where the rebel had placed her with an apology. A storm was coming; she could see the great rolling clouds, the flash of lightning in the distance, illuminating the silver city. She sat there with one leg bent at the knee, hugged to her chest. As if she could hold herself together. She was exhausted, pain stabbing at her side where blood blossomed across the silken material that covered her abdomen. She took slow, shallow breaths, trying to overcome the shock and pain.

She'd not expected the Guard's to open fire. Perhaps the one holding her had been the Unmasked One. Or perhaps not. Halt in the name of Prince Hanyl, they had said. Not Aethyr.

Her shuddering breath formed a cloud before her as the temperature plummeted. Another shaky breath and the world tilted as she swayed, fighting unconsciousness. She had wiped off as much of the blood and dirt off her face as she could.

She could only hope that Spock or McCoy would find her before she slipped away.

She watched as the clouds rolled in.

….

She knelt there, frozen. No, was her only thought. She wanted to throw herself against the ground, wanted to scream. She wanted the rain to wash away the pain. A torch was lit atop the castle, flickering in the rain. But no light in the world could keep the coming darkness at bay.

She stared up at the two moons, hanging beautifully in the sky, obscured by the heavy rain clouds. It made the battlefield disproportionally large, and she felt infinitesimally small.

She steeled herself. Her eyes hardened, even as tears slid down her cheeks, mixing with the rain that soaked her.

Looping an arm under Myrrac's shoulders and another under his legs, she picked him up. They could not take him away from her too.

The rain continued.

….

"Drop the gun Aethyr," Emalynn's voice was fractured, disjointed. Her fear was visible in the whites that showed around her silver irises.

Aethyr let her gaze sweep over them all, searching the faces one by one. She looked at her beautiful friend, Emalynn, cowering behind her brother. Both pairs of silver eyes were riveted on her, one pair full of fear, the other full of hatred. She knew that if she killed the Emperor he would hunt her to the end of the universe. Her finger twitched over the trigger, her mind awhirl. Perhaps to a greater person the decision would have been easy, to simply put down the gun and give herself up. But what would that achieve?

"Aethyr, please," the Emperor's voice was weak, a desperate plead.

The war would not cease. And it would not cease until the Emperor was removed from the throne.

It would be so easy to pull the trigger, to watch his vile blood splatter across the shining walls of his ethereal palace. To watch the man who had caused so much death die, to watch the life leave his eyes and knowing she was the cause. Knowing that the mission she had given herself so long ago would be ended. But what would that make her? She would be no better than him. But he had carved her into the person she was – he had taken the vengeful girl and turned her into a killing machine, a diplomat.

She always had the purpose, but he created the tool of his own destruction. He trained her. He taught her.

She could feel the great Emperor of Hetyr trembling, his hands visibly shaking. Such a weak man.

She could feel the power of the gun she held, just waiting to be released.

She met summer blue eyes, the same colour as the energy that swirled within the gun. Her eyes hardened. He was a traitor; he would have seen them all killed.

She pulled the trigger.


	15. Chapter 15

**AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry it's been over a month since I updated…I'm so so so sorry : ( I hope you haven't lost faith in me…so here it is : ) R & R my loverlies : ) thank you for your patience. **

**Chapter 14:**

Colours and images swirled before her eyes; nothing was substantial, nothing was real. Through the prison bars there was nothing to see but bright lights and white walls. She could feel the eyes' of the Guards on her, concealed behind black visors, but she could not see them. Nothing could permeate the drug-induced haze that enveloped her. She could hear voices – disjointed, out of place. And she could not tell if they were real or imagined, or if they were, perhaps, memories.

She found a smile tugging at her lips and did not care if she seemed mad to any onlookers. She regretted not a thing.

…..

It was pandemonium when Spock entered the dome, the prisoner was shackled to a metal pole in the centre of the dais, holding the attention of all. As he approached he could see those beautiful silver orbs flashing, her silken white hair tumbling over slender shoulders, her body covered by only a flimsy silver garment; he felt more than saw Jim tense at his side.

Not one person in the crowds was silent – all crying their outrage, demanding the prisoner be released. He could see rage etched into every line of the speakers face: Prince Hanyl of Hetyr, soon to be the Emperor. The widowed Queen stood by his side, her face obscured completely by a lattice-work mask, her hair covered by a shimmering silver veil. Spock could have imagined it, but he thought he could see a faint smile upon her silver-painted lips.

"Silence!" the woman's voice, strong and powerful, brought an immediate silence in its wake. The speaker stood by Prince Hanyl's side. Nurse Stirling, Spock recognised – but her hair silver, her eyes dark gunmetal; the traitor upon the Enterprise, the one who had requested Sector 31's help. But she had not been able to eliminate Aethyr. It was Nurse Stirling, with her small gunmetal eyes that shined as brightly as the diamonds that adorned her mask and wrists, who had fooled them all from the beginning.

Hanyl threw her a grateful smile, touching her arm gently before turning to the masses one more. Spock gazed out of the window, seeing the smoky tendrils that rose up into the sky as the last of the fires died down. The rebels were out there, they all knew, waiting in the city to launch their next attack.

Hanyl was a fool to believe Aethyr had acted alone; that it had all been her.

Killing Aethyr would not stop the rebellion that threatened to swallow his Empire.

"General Aethyr Startoucher," he began slowly, as if he were savouring the moment. "You have been named a traitor, a murderer. "You killed my father in cold blood; you aided the rebels in secret." There was no collective gasp of shock, as he seemed to be expecting, but the animosity of the crowd seemed to be directed at him. His lips curled back a fraction – a reaction that was not missed on the hundreds of screens across the city. "I want to know why."

"You will sit on a throne taken through deceit and betrayal; I merely returned the favour that your father bestowed upon our last Emperor. So that the rightful Heir may claim his place," she spat at his feet, seething. And it was then that the murmurs began; spark flying around Aethyr's body. The electric handcuffs that bound her seemed to be malfunctioning. Gone was the ethereal calmness that she exuded as the General of the Guard – stripped of her title she seemed to have stripped herself of all pretences. It was pure rage and hate that flashed through every fibre of her being. Spock could see it in the way that her fingers clenched and unclenched, the way her pupils dilated in defiance of the light, the way her lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl.

"You are no longer a citizen of Hetyr, you are nameless and unmasked," Hanyl said, his voice devoid of emotion. "And as such you will be set adrift within the Renyr Field."

"LET HER GO!" one of the crowd yelled, banging his or her fist against the glass screen that separated them. Then another yelled, and another. And the crowd was a yelling mass, a loud cacophony that echoed around the stadium, all wanting to be heard.

"You will die, Aethyr," Hanyl hissed in her ear. Spock's hearing only just picked it up, so soft as it was. "Agent Wering's death is a sad loss, but we will prevail."

And then the glass shattered; the crowds spilling forth.

Spock glanced across at Jim, whose body was rigid, his eyes fixated upon Aethyr, who seemed lucid. Unlike the times they had tried to visit her: she was too dangerous Hanyl had told them. Hanyl, who had no objections to having his fiancé executed.

"Kill them all," he heard Hanyl snarl as they were ushered into another room. But not before his keen ears picked up the tell-tale sound of gas being released.

….

"But she didn't kill the Emperor," Jim said after a moment, staring at Spock Prime just as the others present were.

"No, it seems that this time she sees the true threat," the older Spock replied grimly. "In my time her actions inadvertently caused the destruction of the Hetyran Empire – for Prince Hanyl ordered every city destroyed an extermination of every possible rebel. The city rebelled against him after her death; she was their champion."

"So what do we do?" Uhura's voice was small from where she sat, bandages wound tight around her body.

"We free her and finish what she's started," at the unknown voice Jim spun, his hand on the phaser. His eyes narrowed, he appraised the Hetyran who'd entered undetected. He seemed somewhat familiar, with burning silver eyes that seemed to stare straight through him. He did not wear silver, blue or white; instead it was a solid black uniform that he wore, the curtain of white hair stark against the dark material.

Spock Prime did not seem especially startled but Spock's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "How did you gain entry? The codes to the doors are secure."

"You're not going to ask me who I am?" the man was laughing at them, Jim was sure, in a way that was far too familiar. Then he grinned. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Myrrac, the Unmasked. Wanted rebellion leader, _known_ as the last hacker of Hetyr II, true Heir to the Throne of the Hetyran Empire." Jim found himself tensing as the Hetyran's eyes danced. A hacker, it explained how he got in. "I am Aethyr's brother."


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh dear lords I'm so sorry, I've turned into one of those people who only update once every month or two…or three o. O…I'm SO SO SO SO SORRY! Also a huge thank to all who favourited and followed this : ) I promise promise promise I'll update more regularly : ) and I'd love some feedback : )**

**Chapter 15:**

"He wanted you to beg," Queen Gwenvr said softly through the bars. The captive's eyes were slightly unfocused, but she did not doubt that the white-haired woman understood every word. The drugs did nothing to her mind – they simply inhibited her body's movements. She would be disorientated, her limbs not responding to her commands; but she would be aware. It was how Gwenvr wanted it. "It was his own fault for not wanting to drug you."

Aethyr Startoucher – the whore who had captured the heart of Hetyr with her valiant actions and smiles. Her face was unmasked and unpainted – the sight almost disgusted the Queen: if not for her colouring she could have passed for a human. She was sitting against the far wall, her silver eyes pointed somewhere over her shoulder, the strands of her pure white hair clinging to her slender shoulders.

A worthy opponent once.

"Hanyl should have known you'd escape, though I wasn't expecting you to kill Stirling," the Queen continued. The infiltrator's death she did not mourn, for the nurse had served her purpose. "A rather brutal act on your part."

Not as brutal as planning to wipe out the rest of Hetyr II, but she did not think that the traitor knew such information. Gwenvr did not ponder such off-handed statements and words such as traitor. Because she was sure if she thought to much about it, it would be she who would be deemed a traitor and not Aethyr. Though of course, she had killed the Heir to the throne (whether he was deservingly the Heir or not).

"I'm quite sorry, my dear," she continued, "but you really were messing everything up for me."

_All my careful plans…_

"Now tell me something," she drew closer to the bars, narrowing her gaze at the drugged woman. "How much did you tell your pretty boy, Kirk? Or how much has his first mate guessed?"

"You will fall, Gwenvr, false Queen of Hetyr," the venom in Aethyr's voice took her by surprise – the clarity in her eyes burnt almost into her soul as she glared. Wrists and feet bound, she could do nothing else. "The true Emperor will take his place, and there will be nowhere left for you to hide."

"True Emperor?" She laughed; a bell-like sound which echoed through the small chamber. "My dear, Hanyl is the true Emperor, whether you or the unmasked one believes that or not. The old Emperor's children are dead. We made sure of that."

"Yes, you did, didn't you," her eyes drifted once more, silken white hair brushed a bared shoulder. "From the sky blue fire rained down. Burning…burning…burning…So many screams, so much dying. We did almost die…almost, but not quite." Those hazy silver eyes flicked to Gwenvr's once more. "You've created your own destruction, false queen. And it will be me who ends your life."

Gwenvr stared as her words sunk in. _It was not possible!_ The scrawny wench before her could not be the daughter of the Emperor, her own niece by marriage. She had suspected a relationship between the white-haired woman and the Unmasked, but she had thought it was of the illicit kind…How had she gotten into the city all those years ago? How had she fooled them all?

"Oh look, you have a visitor," her tone was disinterested, but she schooled her face into a mask of grief – her daughter would have seen the emotion in her eyes behind her silver lattice-work mask, th panic. She needed to contact Sector 31.

…..

"So Aethyr is really a princess?" Jim was staring at the white-haired man as if he'd turned Andorian blue. The woman he had come to know…he thought he knew her.

"Is it really that surprising?"

Bones was shaking his head and cursing under his breath at the complexity of it all. "So let me get this straight," the doctor was looking at Myrrac, the Unmasked One, his expression baffled. "Your mother fled the city with you and Aethyr when Emperor Hanyl killed your father, the former Emperor. It took years for him to locate you and when he did he burnt the town to the ground, under the pretence of saying you were a hacker and therefore dangerous, and Aethyr was also assumed killed in the attack. The two of you then came up with a plan – for her to gain the trust of your uncle whilst you amassed the rebel forces and weakened_ his _forces (who were under Aethyr's command). And then she came to see that it was not the Emperor who was the usurper, but his wife? Who was grooming their son, Prince Hanyl for the throne in the way that she wished?"

Myrrac nodded slowly, his eyes glinting in a way that reminded Jim too much of Aethyr. "Our plan worked perfectly – for the people have fallen in love with her. A charisma that comes from our mother."

That much was undeniable, thought Jim, thinking of her lovely silver eyes and charm.

"So what do you propose? How do we bust her out?" Jim grinned, adrenaline running through his veins.

"What I need from you is a distraction," Myrrac said softly, a familiar grin dancing on his lips. A grin that hinted at danger and excitement. "I'll handle the rest."

…..

"Why did you do it?" The tears were still fresh in Emalynn's silver eyes as she looked at her former friend.

Friend, confidant…cousin.

If only Aethyr could tell her the words she thought, but her body would not respond. She would not lie and say she was sorry – but she wanted Emalynn to understand why. She knew the queen was listening to her every word, just waiting.

"I want…you…to get out…Em," she said softly, through gritted teeth, fighting her body's efforts to stop here. "It's going…to get messy…"

Emalynn's body stiffened when Aethyr let her eyes dart to the queen and back to her friends. Willing her to understand.

"I hope you rot in here for what you have done," the princess spat, snarling. She spun on her heel and disappeared down the hallway in a swirl of snow white skirts. She almost spat herself at the smug expression on Gwenvr's face as she followed her daughter.

…..

Hanyl stared at the photo, something akin to sorrow in his eyes. It was a bone deep sorrow, one that had begun working its way into his system the moment his older brother's eyes had rolled back in his head and he had fallen lifeless to the floor as the effects of the poison took their toll. The wine had been such a deep, deep red against the Emperor's white robes. Like droplets of blood on snow. He remembered the expression on the young prince's face; once of horror and pain. And the girl had been little more than a babe, clutching at her mother's skirts and crying for her father.

And Alythea, his brother's stunning white-haired wife, had uttered such a cry of pain, Hanyl had felt his heart almost tear in two at what had begun.

The photo was of happier times; his brother's wedding to Alythea – such love shone in both their eyes. Surely no bride had ever looked as beautiful as the future queen of Hetyr.

He touched the photo gingerly, before placing it on his dresser.

"Are you in need of anything, my lord?" the droid's voice was pleasant, annoyingly so. He wished for Aethyr's dry humour, and honesty.

"No, that is all," he waved away the blue-eyed robot without looking at its perfect form.

But he heard the hiss of the door sliding closed as it left his chambers.

How had Aethyr betrayed him so? The one person he thought he could count on. It occurred to him then, that he did not mourn the loss of his son as much as the loss of the woman who would have been his daughter by marriage.

"Why are you looking at that old picture again?" Gwenvr's voice was furious, laced with the venom he had long grown accustomed to. He was not such a fool as to not notice his wife's plotting behind his back.

He had never made a graver mistake as he had when he'd married Gwenvr, though he did not regret the children: one of whom was dead and the other he was not sure was his. Emalynn was a sweet thing, no matter the circumstance of her birth.

He let out a sigh, glancing at the picture once more. "Aethyr looks much like her mother, does she not?"

He watched as Gwenvr's mouth popped open in shock, a true reaction for once. "How long have you known?" her voice was a hiss.

He rose a brow. _How long have you? _He did not voice such thoughts, however. "Since the day she showed up and asked for a place in my Guard."

His wife was livid with fury, he knew by the shaking of her fists. It would not long until the words flowed out of her like the poison she was so fond of. "And you let her into our home?" her voice was nothing more than a breath.

Had he known it would end like this would he have done otherwise? "We took everything from her. Even her innocence." No, he would have acted exactly the same. His wife and son would have seen Hetyr burn if they could rule over the ashes – and Aethyr was the only one who could stop that. He did not know that she would have gone to such lengths, but she was not one to do things by halves.

"Her hacker brother will see you killed, he will have no mercy upon you, dear husband."

He found he could not care.

It was by chance he glanced out of the window at that moment, seeing the slight blue curve of the shield that protected the city. And when he blinked it was gone, a faint blue light on the horizon. Followed by more.

He knew what it was, the tell-tale blue lights that flashed along the length of those fighters that Aethyr was so fond of. And he knew that those very same lights could be disabled.

"Oh look," he said idly. "Here they come now. Best go prepare yourself, my dear wife. I suspect Aethyr will be out for your blood."

…..


End file.
